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Beatrice 



HAWLEY SAVART 


Autl)or of 

Bre^zie 

** Ti^ 2ind Tricki 


At Pziult, 
^tc. 


JOHN ' A-TAY b OK'&'-CO 

• CW YOfvK vbO hJ D O N • T* O JR O N TO- 


BY 


October 1 5ti)r 1891. Issuo^ Semi-^\ontbly* Annuiil SubscriptiODr 5 1 0.00. 

enttre4 9A tbe ffew YorH Post Offico a^s Socon<l Class f\attcr. 





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Beatrice and Benedick 


A 


ROMANCE OF THE CRIMEA 


BY 

HAWLEY SMART 

II 

AUTHOR OF “ BREEZIE LANGTON “AT FAULT “ TIE AND TRICK 
“ LONG ODDS “ WITHOUT LOVE OR LICENSE,” ETC., ETC. 




JOHN A. TAYLOR AND COMPANY 


0& - 3<bo^ 




Copyright, 1891, by 

JOHN A. TAYLOR AND COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. — The Walking Match, . 

II. — War Mutterings, 

III. — Blue Beard’s Chamber, 

IV. — Constable Tarrant, 

V. — Miss Srnerdon Grows Sarcastic, . 

VI. — The Taking of the Quarries, 

VII. — Miss Smerdon’s Pride Breaks Down, 

VIII. — News from the Crimea, 

IX. — Constable Tarrant is Puzzled, 

X. — Mrs. Seacole’s, .... 

XI. — Tom’s Visitor in the Advance, 

XII. — The Fourth Division Races, 

XIII. — The Lady of the Roses, 

XIV. — The Storming of the Redan, 

XV. — Missing, ..... 

XVI. — Polly Changes her Mind, 

XVII. — The Lyndens Levant, 

XVIII. — Winter Quarters, 

XIX. — Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, 

XX. — Batch! Serai, .... 


PAGE 

. 5 

. 14 
. 24 

. 34 
. 44 

. 54 
. 65 
. 76 
. 87 

• 97 
, 107 
. 116 
. 126 

. 137 

. 148 
. 158 
. 166 
. 176 
. 186 
. 196 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

XXI. — Polly’s Marriage, 





PAGE 

. 204 

XXII.— “ Easter Eggs,” 





. 212 

XXIII.— The Royal Review, . 





. 222 

XXIV.— In Full Cry, 





.’•232 

XXV.— Baffled, .... 





. 241 

XXVI. — The Ambassador, 





. 251 

XXVII.— “ What Shall I Do ? ” 





. 260 

XXVIII. — “ Love Must be Requited,” 





. 270 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE WALKING MATCH. 

A BRIGHT sun and a nor’-easter, such as usually char- 
acterize the merry month of May. A white, straight, 
dusty road, along which a man with his loins girt up, 
and stripped to his shirt and trousers, is walking rapidly 
and doggedly. He is followed by a little knot of people 
apparently interested in his proceedings, one of whom, 
walking by his side, continually consults his watch ; in- 
deed, the whole party seem extremely anxious as regards 
the time. The man stripped of his coat looks worn, 
travel-stained, and bears signs of weariness. If he is 
walking fast, there can also be little doubt from the set, 
defiant expression in his face that he is walking in no 
little difficulty. From time to time he throws a mute 
glance at his companion, who usually responds with 
much the same formula : 

“Never fear, old boy — you’ll do it all right; all you 
have got to do is to keep on walking and think of noth- 
ing else. I’m doing the thmkmg for you. You have 
got a mile to do every fourteen minutes, and you will 
just win clever!” 


5 


6 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


When Hugh Fleming three evenings previously 
backed himself to walk fifty miles in twelve hours, with- 
out training, the whole mess-table laughed. The brother 
officer who had laid two to one against his doing it, good- 
naturedly offered to scratch the bet any time during 
the evening. It seemed perfectly absurd that Fleming 
should perform any such feat as this. A man who had 
shown so far not the slightest taste for athletics — who 
rarely played cricket, never played racquets, and with 
the exception of an occasional country walk, for the most 
part took his exercise round a billiard-table. He had 
never been known to walk a match, and when this one 
was made said that he had never done such a thing be- 
fore. His comrades all laughed at him, and with that 
candor which close intimacy confers bade him “ not 
make a fool of himself, but cry off his bet before it was 
too late.’- 

There was one exception to the popular feeling — there 
invariably is — and this was Tom Byng, Fleming’s most 
intimate friend. Byng maintained a rigid silence as to 
what he thought of the affair, and even when appealed 
to, declined to express any opinion thereon. He was a 
man who was rather an authority among his fellows 
on all matters of sport, whether with rod or with gun, 
whether on the race-course or on the cinder-track, and 
his brother officers were not a little anxious to ascertain 
what he might think of this foolish wager. But no ; 
neither at the dinner-table nor in the anteroom after- 
ward could he be induced to express his views. Until 
Fleming had retired for the night he smoked silently, 
and in answer to all inquiries as to what he thought of 
the match merely shrugged his shoulders and replied, 
‘‘ I don’t know ; I never saw him walk in earnest. ” But 


THE WALKING MATCH. 


7 


no sooner had Fleming retired than, throwing the end 
of his cigar into the fire, he turned round to the layer 
of odds and said : 

“ If you would like to have a little more money against 
Fleming, Brydon, you can lay me ;2^ioo to 

‘‘You may put it down,” replied the other, “if you 
will tell me what you are going on.” 

“ Willingly. Unless he is very vain, it is always very 
dangerous to bet against a man who backs himself. Be- 
sides, when we were quartered at Portsmouth I once 
saw Fleming, for a joke, do a thing which, though I be- 
lieve it no great feat, would puzzle any man in this room 
to perform. 

“ You recollect at one end of the cricket ground there 
was a skittle alley, and after play, or when their side 
was in, men would sometimes have a turn at that fine 
old English game. Precious duffers at it too, they were 
for the most part. Fleming was in there one day, chaff- 
ing a couple of men who were playing. When they had 
finished, he put up the pins again and said, ‘Now if you 
fellows can play let’s see you take those down, one pin 
at a time; that is, the nine pins in nine shots. You 
mustn’t upset two at a time, remember, or you will not 
have done what I mean. ’ 

“ ‘Bah, ’ said one of the men, ‘do it? Of course I can’t, 
or you either. I will lay you ten to one you can’t do it. ’ 

“‘I think I can,’ replied Fleming quietly, ‘although 
it isn’t easy. You shall lay me ten to one in shillings, ’ 
and to our astonishment Fleming proceeded to accom- 
plish the feat. 

“ I didn’t know he could play skittles, and most cer- 
tainly don’t know that he can walk ; but he might. I’m 
backing him on the off. ” 


8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Such were the events which had led up to the match 
now taking place. Fleming had started at seven in 
the morning, accompanied only by two brother officers, 
one of whom was acting as umpire. 

When he had accomplished his first twelve miles in 
two hours and a half, and then stopped to breakfast, these 
gentlemen thought that he would win his wager easily. 
But the pace was too good to last, and when Byng ar- 
rived, just as Fleming was finishing his thirtieth mile, 
the match had begun to look very black for the pedes- 
trian. He was untrained, he had no experience of 
walking matches, and he had nobody to coach him. 
Whatever the man’s capabilities might be, he did not 
know how to make the most of them. As he had not 
understood the husbanding of his own powers in the 
early part of his undertaking, so now he did not know 
how to use what was left of them. He was losing time 
on every mile. There were twenty more weary miles 
to tramp, and each one of them took him longer to ac- 
complish than those that had gone before. All the fiery 
dash of the morning was gone, and the afternoon saw the 
sorely distressed man still struggling gamely with the 
task which it was rapidly becoming an obvious impossi- 
bility that he vShould perform. Had Byng not arrived 
at this critical juncture it had been little use his arriving 
at all ; but the minute he understood the state of things he 
made a rapid calculation in his head, examining Fleming 
critically as he walked alongside him, and then said : 

“ I tell you what, old boy; if you’re game and will do 
as I tell you, you will just pull through ; but there won’t 
be much to spare. ” 

‘‘ I’m about cooked,” replied Fleming; ‘‘ but I’m quite 
good to go on till you say it’s hopeless.” 


THE WALKING MATCH. 


9 


It’s a long way off hopeless at present,” replied the 
other, for the first time giving the advice which he is 
reiterating at the beginning of this chapter. 

As they turned at the milestone — for, under Byng’s 
guidance, the mile being tolerably level, the match was 
to be completed over that mile, walking it backward 
and forward — there was a slight commotion among 
some of Fleming’s partisans, who had now assembled to 
watch the conclusion of his task. What it was was hardly 
discernible at the distance they then were from it, but 
as they came nearer it was evident that in their zeal for 
his success some of Fleming’s partisans had stopped a 
smart carriage full of ladies for fear it should prove a 
hindrance to their champion. The fair tenants had 
willingly acquiesced upon understanding what they 
had to pull up for. Two young ladies stood up as Flem- 
ing went by, and scanned him narrowly. 

“Who did you say 'it was, Pritchard?” inquired a tall 
showy girl of the coachman. 

“ It’s one of the officers, miss,” replied the man, touch- 
ing his hat; “ but I didn’t catch his name. He’s backed 
himself to walk a lot of miles in a certain time.” 

“They are a new lot, Nell,” said the speaker; “they 
only came in about six or seven weeks ago. Papa has 
but just called, and I haven’t met any of them yet. Be- 
sides, you know, in common decency for those who have 

gone — the th were a very nice lot of fellows, and 

very popular — we really must, so to speak, wear mourn- 
ing for them a little.” 

“More than they will do for you, my dear,” replied 
her companion, laughing. “ Soldiers and sailors are 
marvellous hands at quick transfer of the affections.” 

“Ah, well, I don’t suppose there’s much harm done 


10 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


on either side. Singed wings here and there no doubt, 
but for most of us only many a pleasant dancing party 
to look back upon, and genuine regret that our pet part- 
ners will meet us no more. This looks promising for 
the new-comers. As long as a regiment has some go in 
it, there’s always hope for us. A very pretty taste in 
balls and picnics, I have noticed, often accompanies 
sporting tendencies ; but when we get a regiment that 
does nothing, as now and again we do — ugh!” and Miss 
Smerdon shrugged her pretty shoulders, as much as to 
say no words could express her feelings for the British 
soldier who socially failed to do his duty. 

A tall, good-looking girl, with a profusion of wavy, 
brown hair. Miss Smerdon was considered a beauty in 
her own part of the country. She was the only daughter 
of a wealthy iron-master, and in spite of her having 
two brothers she was likely, if not an heiress, yet to 
bring her husband a very substantial dowry. She was 
a popular girl, and no one could say that Frances Smer- 
don was deficient in^‘go.” Elderly ladies sometimes 
shook their heads over her doings, and whispered bold 
and fast” behind their fans; but for all that there was 
no real harm in her. She rejoiced in high spirits, and 
was perhaps a little too given to defy conventionalities ; 
but her escapades when looked into were of a very venial 
nature, and were more prompted by her love of fun than 
anything else. She enjoyed life keenly, as well she 
might, with both youth and wealth at her call, and 
threw herself into whatever she was doing with all her 
heart. How she and Nellie Lynden had become such 
intimate friends was rather a puzzle to their acquaint- 
ances. The latter lived in Manchester, but was in the 
habit of paying long visits to Monmouthshire, where. 


THE WALKING MATCH. 


1 1 

some half-dozen miles from Newport, Mr. Smerdon had 
a handsome country seat. 

^‘No! don’t let him drive on, Frances, we are in no 
hurry, and I want to see that officer come back again. 
I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but I am interested 
in it. I feel sure he will do it, whatever it is.” 

‘‘Stay where you are, Pritchard,” replied the other, 
laughing. “ We wish to see a little more of this match. ” 

“ Well, ” she continued, turning to her friend. “ Love 
at first sight we’ve heard of, but faith at first sight such 
as yours I have never yet met with. Why such belief 
in this unknown pedestrian?” 

“It’s a striking face,” rejoined Nell Lynden. “I 
don’t mean a particularly handsome one, but a more 
resolute, bull-dog one I never saw. He was in distress 
when he passed us, but that man will do the task he has 
set himself, or drop by the wayside.” 

And now once more Fleming and his three or four 
attendants passed close to the carriage. He keeps side 
by side with his mentor, and there is a set, dogged look 
on his face which, pale though it is, shows no sign of 
flinching. He is evidently very beat, but there can be 
little doubt that he will go on to the bitter end, and it 
is evident to all the lookers on that Byng is determined 
he shall. To do the latter justice it is not his own stake 
on it that he is thinking of, but his blood is up. He has 
identified himself with his proteg^ and he is resolved he 
shall win. He has made up his mind to take the last 
ounce out of his man just as he would out of his horse 
in riding a punishing finish. He has spared himself 
not a whit since he came upon the scene, and has walked 
sixteen miles by his friend’s side. Only four miles more 
to go, and if his protegd can but keep at the pace he’s 


12 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


going, the match will be won with five or six minutes to 
spare. The excitement waxes intense as the finish 
draws near. Win or lose, it is a match, and must be a 
very close thing. It takes all Byng can do to keep his 
man up to the requisite pace, and there can be no doubt 
that, left to himself, Fleming would have imperceptibly 
slackened in that matter. It is very hard for a beaten 
man to keep his eye on the watch and regulate his speed 
at the same time. The sympathies of the regiment, 
and even of the lookers-on, who had come out of the 
neighboring town to see the finish of such a sporting 
affair, are all with Fleming. The public always wish 
success to the man who backs himself in anything of 
this sort. It requires pluck to perform such an arduous 
task, and that is a thing which always enlists the sym- 
pathies of Englishmen. Even Brydon could not resist 
the excitement. 

Upon my word,’' he exclaimed, as the last mile but 
one was begun, I think he’ll win. It will cost me a 
couple of hundreds if he does; but I can’t help hoping 
he will. We don’t know much of each other till a pinch 
comes, that’s certain. Who’d have thought that Hugh 
Fleming had such stuff in him?” 

But this mile Byng had no little trouble to get his 
proUge along. Now and again Fleming stumbled in 
his walk. The truth is, he was suffering from one of 
the most severe trials to which a man is exposed in a 
long walk of this nature. His feet were giving way ; 
which means that before long the walk must be reduced 
to a hobble, and that to crawl a mile within half-an-hour 
will be about all that he can accomplish. He had lost 
two minutes in spite of all Byng’s exertions over the 


TJiE WALKING MATCH. 


13 


last, and there remained to him but eighteen minutes in 
which to walk the concluding mile. 

The young ladies had lingered to see the finish of the 
match, and as Fleming passed their carriage for the last 
time, with still half a mile to get, Nell Lynden turned 
to her friend and said : 

“Now let's go home, Frances. He’ll do it; but I 
wish we hadn’t stopped to watch him go by this time. 
Poor fellow, he is suffering terribly. I could see his 
lips twitch as he passed us.” 

They well might, for, to say nothing of being dead 
beat, Hugh Fleming was experiencing the sensations 
of a cat on hot bricks every time he put his feet to the 
ground. Pritchard turned his horses round, and in ac- 
cordance with Miss Smerdon’s instructions drove leis- 
urely homeward. 

But ere they had gone far the sounds of a ringing 
cheer fell faintly on their ears, and told them that Hugh 
Fleming had won his match. It had been a close shave, 
but the fifty miles had been completed with two good 
minutes to spare. 

“A fine thing, and a pretty match,” said Byng; “but 
I tell you what, Brydon, if he’d only had a week in 
which to harden his feet he’d have won with half an 
hour in hand. If you want your revenge. I’ll back him 
to walk — ” 

“ No, you don’t,” cried the hero of the hour, as his 
partisans picked him up and carried him to the carriage 
which was in waiting. “This child has had enough 
walking to last him his natural life. And he’s begin- 
ning to think that cavalry is the branch of the service 
which would suit him best.” 


CHAPTER II. 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 

Nell Lynden’s father and Mr. Smerdon had been 
friends in their schoolboy days, at which period the 
position of Lynden’s family was certainly superior to that 
of the latter’s. But both boys had their way to make 
in the world ; neither had any prospect of succeeding to 
any fortune from their parents. Robert Lynden went 
up to London and was speedily lost in the whirlpool of 
the great city. What became of him, what he did there, 
nobody knew. For the first year or two that he was in 
London they heard from him regularly at home. He 
had apprenticed himself to a chemist and entertained 
serious thoughts of turning to medicine as a profession 
later on, and to enable him to attend the schools his 
father volunteered considerable pecuniary assistance. 
For a few months young Lynden drew steadily for this 
purpose, then suddenly all communication from him 
ceased. He not only abstained from writing for money, 
— an exigency apt to insure punctual correspondence — 
but he did not write at all. His mother grew very anx- 
ious about him ; inquiries were set on foot ; the chemist 
to whom he had bound himself was duly communicated 
with, and replied that Robert Lynden, after voluntarily 
apprenticing himself, had broken his indentures at the 
end of a year, and that he had neither seen nor heard 
anything of him since. His father went up to town and 

14 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 


15 


made inquiries in every direction. He even consulted 
the police on the subject; but no, nothing could be 
heard of the missing youth. London seemed to have 
swallowed him up, and all endeavors to ascertain his 
fate proved useless. He was advertised for in all direc- 
tions, for his people were well enough to do to be able 
to spend some little money in trying to trace their boy. 
But nothing came of inquiry or advertisement, and after 
a time his mother mourned for him as dead, while his 
father came sadly to the conclusion that his disappear- 
ance was one of those unscrutable mysteries ever char- 
acteristic of great cities. Whether he had been foully 
done to death who could say? or whether he was the 
unrecognized victim of some accident. But that their 
son was dead, neither Mr. or Mrs. Lynden entertained 
the slightest doubt, and in due course of years went to 
their graves undisturbed in that belief. 

Nellie Lynden could have told you very little about 
her father’s antecedents. She could barely remember 
her mother, who had died when she was very young, 
and from that time her life had simply been a progress 
from one school to another. Clever and sensitive, even 
as a child the thought had oppressed her that she be- 
longed to nobody. She was kindly treated, but it was 
bitter for her when the holidays came and the other 
girls went to their homes. There were no holidays for 
her, for what were holidays without a home, and she 
had no home. Boys, we know can be very cruel to each 
other, and I fancy girls are very little better in this re- 
spect. Some of her schoolmates — perhaps because they 
were out of temper, perhaps from that innate desire to 
torture which exists in the 3^oung of both sexes — would 
twit Nellie when the holidays came round with having 


i6 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


nowhere to go to. They would inquire, with affected 
interest, if she did not find it dull being there all those 
weeks by herself. And she did find it dull — horribly 
dull, and they knew it. 

Her school-mistresses were kind enough; but what 
could they do? Their engagement with her father was 
that they should always take care of her in the holidays, 
as he had no home to take her to. He was kind enough 
to the desolate girl upon his few brief visits, and lavish 
with regard to money for her dress or anything else she 
fancied as she grew older. But, except occasionally for 
a very few days, he had never taken her away with him. 
And then a hotel had been her home. The result of 
this peculiar training had been to make Nellie Lynden a 
somewhat reserved girl, not one to give away her friend- 
ship lightly; and though popular in every school she 
^had ever been in, she had never formed one of those 
gushing friendships which girls are so apt to contract 
in these days. 

Some four years before our story commences she had 
been called upon to come home and take charge of her 
father’s house. For the first time in his life Dr. Lynden 
admitted of having a house. Nellie further wondered, 
on the receipt of this letter whether he had also a prac- 
tice. Questioned once upon this point, he had replied 
that he had practised chiefly abroad, that he had given 
it up now, and only prescribed in an amateurish way for 
a few intimate friends or acquaintances. He had fur- 
ther made some rather severe strictures on the vice of 
curiosity, and avowed his opinion that there was no such 
bore alive as a painfully inquisitive person. This was 
quite sufficient hint for Nellie. She never ventured to 
inquire further into the past life of her father. She ac- 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 


17 


cepted things as they were, and admitted that she had 
no cause to complain. 

The doctor’s house in the suburbs of Manchester, 
though not large, was extremely comfortable. Nellie 
was perfectly satisfied with the rooms put apart for her 
exclusive use, as well as the drawing-room and dining- 
room. The doctor reserved for himself besides his bed- 
room, a large room fitted up as a laboratory, which he 
called his “ den. ” The peculiarity about this room was 
that it was guarded by elaborate double doors from the 
rest of the house, and further had a separate stair com- 
municating with the outside, so that it was possible for 
the doctor from his laboratory to leave the house . with- 
out the knowledge of the other inmates. The outer of 
these doors was kept jealously locked, which the doctor 
explained by saying that evil smells were emitted from 
apartments of that description, and that he did not wish 
the rest of the house poisoned ; moreover that servants 
could never resist touching things, and that he did not 
wish a housemaid to blow her head ofE by fiddling with 
a retort which did not concern her. He had had a pas- 
sion for chemistry from his youth up, but it was really 
only of late that he had found leisure to indulge it. 

can’t say as yet, Nell, that I’ve made any dis- 
covery calculated to benefit mankind. I don’t suppose 
I ever shall; but it amuses me and hurts nobody. I’ve 
done my best to render my hobby inoffensive, so you 
must put up with it._” 

“ My dear father,” said Miss Lynden, why shouldn’t 
you do as you like in your own house? As for the labo- 
ratory, the double doors are so effective that I am sure 
no one could ever detect that there was such a thing in 
the place.” 

2 


i8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


If Dr. Lynden went out but little himself, he was not 
forgetful of his daughter. He made arrangements with 
a lady, with whose husband he was tolerably intimate, 
to act as Nell’s chaperon^ and as that young lady her- 
self was by no means unattractive, it was not long be- 
fore she knew a good many people in Manchester. Her 
chaperon^ Mrs. Montague, was one of those vivacious 
ladies who contemplate passing an evening at home 
with dismay. This restless lady could not bear the 
idea of not assisting at everything that was going on in 
Manchester, and would work with untiring patience 
and assiduity to obtain tickets. The more difficult they 
were to come by, I verily believe, the more she enjoyed 
it, and she was perfectly callous to all social rebuff in 
matters of this nature. 

Some two years ago, Nellie, while under the wing of 
Mrs. Montague, chanced to meet Frances Smerdon at a 
dinner party, and the iron-master’s daughter at once 
conceived a strong liking for the quiet, reticent, lady- 
like girl. Miss Smerdon, who had come on a month’s 
visit to Manchester, contrived to see a good deal of her 
new friend in the course of her visit. In the first in- 
stance the liking had been entirely on the part of Fran- 
ces, but gradually Nellie thawed under the advances of 
her more impressionable friend, and before Miss Smer- 
don left it had been arranged that Nellie should pay her 
a visit in Monmouthshire. Dr. Lynden, as soon as he 
knew who she was, took the greatest possible interest 
in Miss Smerdon. He inquired after her father, who 
he recollected as the e7nploye of a great iron company 
in South Wales, and seemed much struck at discovering 
that he had blossomed into a large iron-master on his 
own account. Although reticent about his own past as 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 


19 


ever, he told Frances that he and her father had been 
schoolfellows, and this seemed an additional link in the 
friendship of the two girls. It had subsisted now about 
two years, and Frances was enthusiastic in Miss Lyn- 
den’s praises. 

Knowing her father’s strong opinions on the sin of 
curiosity, Nellie was rather amused how extremely in- 
terested he was in all particulars concerning the life of 
his old chum, Matthew Smerdon. He never wearied 
of asking Smerdon ’s daughter about him on such occa- 
sions as Frances was in Manchester, and cross-examined 
Nellie on her return from Monmouthshire in a manner 
diametrically opposed to his expressed opinions. Smer- 
don, too, in his turn, had been curious to hear of his old 
school-boy friend, and the two girls sometimes discussed 
their respective fathers ; but there was this difference : 
whereas Matthew Smerdon’s career was not only w^ell 
known to his daughter but to all his neighbors from 
the very outset, nobody knew anything about Dr. Lyn* 
den’s from his disappearance almost as a boy in the 
great London wilderness until his reappearance as a re- 
tired medical man in Manchester some four years ago. 
That he had practised on the Continent, and made 
money, was the brief account that Dr. Lynden had 
deigned to give of his past. 

At this particular juncture there commenced a bicker- 
ing between England and the great Autocrat of the 
North, which, little as any one dreamed of it at the time, 
was shortly destined to set all Europe by the ears. 
Europe had been at peace ever since Waterloo, and that 
big battles were ever again to be fought among the 
western nations was apparently looked upon by poll- 


20 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


ticians with incredulity. Still that real or mythical 
will of Peter the Great’s had always been kept steadily 
in sight by the rulers of Russia. To come to Constan- 
tinople sooner or later is ever their fixed resolution, 
and the Turks still believe just as firmly that they will, 
and that it is their Kismet. But as to about the when 
they are to arrive there the Russians have fallen into 
great mistakes. If the Turk submits resignedly to his 
Kisinet in the end, yet he will fight bitterly to avert it, 
as he has shown at Plevna and elsewhere. Moreover 
the nations of Europe have ever regarded with jealous 
eyes the idea of Russia at Constantinople. The Czar 
Nicholas was doubtless aware of all this when he made 
up his mind that the pear was ripe for the plucking. 
Europe might not like it, but who was there to interfere 
with him? There was no united Germany in those days. 
France had only recovered from its state of chronic revo- 
lution to have a relapse in the shape of a coup d'etat., 
while as for England, one might as well expect to see a 
Quaker in the prize-ring as Great Britain intervening by 
arms in any of the quarrels of Europe. 

The nations of the West might not like it; but then in 
the words of the immortal Wegg, ‘‘ The nations of the 
West were at liberty to lump it.” Very busy was the 
English government with notes, and protests, circulars, 
etc., finally dabbling with that most dangerous of all 
documents, an ultimatum. That England would ever 
fight about such a trifle as Russia annexing the Danu- 
bian provinces of Turkey was a thing neither believed 
in by the Czar not the British government. But the 
temper of the English people had to be reckoned with. 
The English people may be thick-headed, but it is also 
extremely obstinate, and close on forty years ago John 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 


21 


Bull made up his mind that he would stand no Russian 
aggression and that it was his bounden duty to protect 
the Turks. After Waterloo, the Millennium; forty 
years, and there comes another big war; forty years 
again, and those gallant Turks for whom war was waged 
are pronounced “unspeakable.” And I fancy there are 
a good many big battles yet to be fought before we come 
to the final field of Armageddon. 

The English nation had taken the bit between its 
teeth, and was “neither to hand nor to bind.” It was 
bent upon fighting, and no government could control it — 
kicked the government of the day indeed out of the 
saddle in a very short time. Whether England was 
ready for war — or, indeed, whether any nation in Eu- 
rope was what could be termed ready for war in these 
days — is open to question. Before England knew where 
she was, she was committed to it, and had to make the 
best of it. That this should occasion much confusion 
at the Horse Guards, as it was then, and much ordering 
and counter ordering of troops, was only natural. One 
thing which still further complicated affairs was the 
persistency with which the government clung to the be- 
lief that the whole thing would end after all in “a dem- 
onstration” — that the strengthening of British garrisons 
in the Mediterranean, and the landing of a small army at 
Gallipoli, must convince the Czar that England was in 
earnest. It was not likely that the proud ruler of the 
hordes of Turkestan and the Steppes of Tartary would 
flinch from lifting the gauntlet thrown down, and of 
this the British government was very shortly destined 
to be convinced. 

Now all this led, of course, to much shifting and 
change of troops. The places of regiments that had 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


2 2 

been promptly shipped off to the East had to be filled 
by others, brought from wherever the authorities could 
lay hands on them. Military chiefs of those days were 
painfully cognizant that they could do with many more 
regiments that they actually possessed, and that the Brit- 
ish army was terribly small in comparison to all that 
was required of it. Regiments got shuffled about in 
rather higgledy-piggledy fashion. One thing, it was 
safe to keep clearly in mind : that wherever a regiment 
might be sent it was as well it should be handy to a 
port of embarkation, for it was patent to any one that if 
there, was really going to be war every soldier that could 
be laid hands on in the United Kingdom would be re- 
quired on the scene of action. The result of all this 
was that Her Majesty’s — th found themselves, much to 
their disgust, in Manchester one fine day, having been 
sent there to relieve a regiment told off for the East. 

Miss Smerdon, who happened to be staying with the 
Lyndens, picked up the news in the course of her morn- 
ing walk. Nearly a year had elapsed since the great 
walking match, and Frances Smerdon had seen a good 
deal of the — th since then, but it so happened Miss Lyn- 
den had not. She had paid one short visit in the au- 
tumn, but the only one of the officers she had met during 
that time was Captain Byng. Frances laughed at the 
time, and said, It’s not my fault, Nell, I assure you. 
We asked your hero to dinner, but he’s away on leave 
somewhere, and I could not catch him.” 

‘‘Oh, you may laugh at my hero,” rejoined the girl 
gravely, “but they will all have a chance of being 
heroes shortly.” 

“Why, nobody thinks there is going to be a war, 
really,” exclaimed Miss Smerdon. 


WAR MUTTERINGS. 


23 


Oh, yes, Frances, they do. My father does for one. 
He not only thinks there’ll be war, but a big war, too.” 

But even if there should be, the — th are not under 
orders for it, and I hope they wont be. I don’t want 
to think my friends, my partners, men whose hands 
have only lately pressed mine, are carrying their lives 
in their hands.” 

“ They’d not thank you for wishing them out of -it,” 
cried Miss Lynden, as her eyes sparkled. “ Didn’t you 
hear that spirited new song the other night, ‘Boot and 
saddle, the pickets are in, ’ how the officer who sang it 
gave out the line, ‘And we’re not the lads to leave out 
of the dance. ’ I can understand a soldier would feel 
that. However, your Newport friends needn’t fret. 
If war is really meant, as my father thinks, he says none 
of the soldiers need trouble themselves about their not 
going out; they will all find themselves there before 
long.” 

“ Ah, well, I can only hope Dr. Lynden ’s wrong,” said 
Miss Smerdon. “ And now give me some lunch, for I 
am nearly starving. ” 


CHAPTER III. 


BLUE beard’s chamber. 

Miss Smerdon had become a great favorite with the 
doctor, and his daughter would often say jestingly that 
Frances could turn him round her finger. Indeed, Nel- 
lie sometimes affected to be jealous, and declared that 
she believed her friend would wind up by becoming her 
mamma. This, however, was the merest badinage. 
Still the young lady was undoubtedly a great favorite 
with the doctor, and could coax him into pretty nearly 
what she pleased. On one point only was the doctor in- 
flexible ; he would not show her what she denominated 
“Blue Beard’s chamber.” She had asked to see it in 
the first instance in the idlest spirit of curiosity. It was 
a wet day. She felt dull, or something of that sort. 
The doctor parried her request in good-humored fashion. 
He read her a lecture on the sin of being inquisitive, 
but he did not show her his den. This only stimulated 
the girl’s desire to see the inside of the laboratory. She 
returned to the charge again and again, and though 
Frances was always assured the doctor could refuse 
her nothing, she discovered that he could, and most de- 
cidedly, too. Frances Smerdon said nothing; she did 
not even tell her friend, but she registered a vow in her 
own breast that if she ever did get the opportunity she 
would investigate the laboratory pretty thoroughly. She 
questioned Nellie as to whether she had ever been in- 

24 


BLUE beard’s chamber. 


25 


side it, and the girl’s reply was, Only once, and then for 
a very few minutes. I never was in any other labora- 
tory, but I suppose they are all much alike. A sort of 
cooking-range, a small furnace, and all sorts of queer- 
shaped glass bottles.” 

Miss Smerdon considered. She also had never seen 
a laboratory. 

recollect,” she murmured, “ hearing a gentleman 
say — it was with regard to invitations — that he always 
went everywhere he was asked, once. On the same 
principle that you should see everything once, of course, 
therefore, it’s my business to see a laboratory once if I 
can. ” However an opportunity to get inside the doctor’s 
den did not seem likely to present itself. She had 
coaxed him, and pledged herself not to be frightened at 
anything she might see inside, even skeletons ; but it 
was no use ; the doctor was inflexible. She inquired of 
Nellie if anybody was ever admitted there. 

‘‘ A few pupils of chemistry who come to him from 
the outside, and whom I never see, and also Phybbs, the 
housemaid; but Phybbs’s visits are rare, and are only 
made under my father’s immediate superintendence.” 

From that instant Phybbs became invested with con- 
siderable interest in the eyes of Miss Smerdon, as one 
versed in the Asian mysteries. She even condescended 
to converse with Phybbs on the subject, which was quite 
contrary to Miss Smerdon’s usual habits, for though 
considerate she was given to keeping a stiff upper lip 
with servants. It. was odd that her curiosity should be 
so excited about such a trifle, but she was a rather spoilt 
young woman, accustomed to have her own way in 
everything; and moreover it is just about these very 
trifles we do become so painfully exercised. What she had 


26 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


gathered from Nellie and Phybbs ought to have satis- 
fied her, but it did not. The doctor spent a great deal 
of his time in his laboratory, and Frances Smerdon pic- 
tured him as perpetually transmuting baser metals into 
gold, seeking for the philosopher’s stone, or indulg- 
ing in the darker mysteries of the Rosicrucians. Who 
were these pupils that Nellie spoke of? Disciples, of 
course , she ought to have called them ; for, gifted with 
a vivid imagination, Miss Smerdon was rapidly invest- 
ing the doctor with supernatural powers, and was al- 
most ready to believe him the head of a sect. She was a 
girl with a very romantic kink in her brain, and had 
built all these mental visions on the prosaic fact that her 
host was an elderly gentleman, who dabbled in chem- 
istry and did not want his retorts and machinery med- 
dled with. 

However, Miss Smerdon had not much time to in- 
dulge in further imaginings. The embarkation of the 
troops caused a feeling through England that she did 
not perhaps make enough of her soldiers. If England 
were going to war — and practical people said she was 
virtually at war at that very time, although, perhaps, not 
a shot might be fired — still it behoved the nation to send 
forth her army handsomely. There might be bitter 
tears to shed, even over victories, should real fighting 
ever begin ; but at the present moment there was a deal 
of ‘‘Rule Britannia,” “Britons never, never shall be 
slaves,” and all that sort of thing, about. It was right 
that young heroes should*be feasted before going into 
the lists — destined to be heroes in real earnest too, 
whether in life or death, many of them. But all this 
was in futurity. Just then the banners waved, the bands 
played, the crowds cheered, the officers dined and danced, 


BLUE beard’s chamber. 


27 


and war was apparently one of the most light-hearted 
of pastimes. 

There had been much talk of giving a great ball to the 
regiment which the — th had relieved, but soldiers get 
scant warning on these occasions, and unfortunately the 
proposed guests were packed oif to the East a little be- 
fore the date fixed for the entertainment. “ What is to 
be done?” said the committee. “ We have excited society 
in Manchester, and society must be satisfied. Postpone 
the ball we may; to put it off altogether is impossible.” 
Then arose in that committee a hard, practical man, who 
opined that one regiment was as good as another — in his 
heart he considered they were all expensive encum- 
brances. As long as the Manchester ladies got their 
ball they would be content. As long as their partners 
have red coats, girls don’t trouble their heads about 
who is inside of them. Ask the new regiment instead 
of the old ; it would all come to the same thing. And 
so it came about that no sooner had they appeared in 
Manchester than the — th found themselves feted in all 
directions. It was necessary, of course, to make the 
acquaintance of the new-comers before the ball given 
in their honor took place. The young ladies of the city 
were most positive on this point, and the result was 
the humblest subaltern of the — th found himself com- 
mitted to as many engagements as in these days falls to 
the lot of an African explorer. 

“I tell you what, old man, ” exclaimed Byng, ‘‘as he 
lounged in the ante-room one morning after parade, 
“ it’s well for you that you hadn’t two or three weeks 
in Manchester before you backed yourself for your big 
walk. They can’t mean us for active service, or they 
would never have sent us to such a Capua as this. Last 


28 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


night’s the fifth night I’ve dined out this week. Tur- 
tle, champagne, punch — ” 

Are little comforts you will find government 
don’t provide on active service,” exclaimed Fleming, 
laughing. 

“ No,” returned the other. By the way, I took into 
dinner a very nice-looking girl, who manifested an un- 
due interest in your unworthy self — Miss Lynden. ” 

“ Don’t know her — never even heard of her,” replied 
Hugh Fleming sententiously. 

‘‘ Well, you needn’t crow, young man. She never saw 
you but once, and whatever you may think of your per- 
sonal appearance, you weren’t looking your best then.” 

When was that?” asked Hugh. 

She saw you finish your match,” repled Byng. 
‘‘ Didn’t look much myself just then; but you — a sham- 
bling, broken-down tramp was the only possible descrip- 
tion of you.” 

“Don’t be personal, man,” rejoined Hugh. “I’ve 
a hazy recollection of passing a carriage with some 
ladies in it. I wonder how she knew my name?” 

“ Oh, she was staying with the Smerdons. She often 
stays with them, and you were a local celebrity for a 
few days, remember. Miss Smerdon was there last 
night. Every one was raving about this ball. I tell 
you what, my children,” continued Byng, addressing 
the little knot of officers in the ante-room, “soldiers are 
up. They’ve touched about the top price they’ve ever 
been at since I’ve been in service. Manchester is pop- 
ularly supposed to abound in heiresses — obvious deduc- 
tion. Take advantage of your opportunities, and bless 
you, etc.” Here Byng extended his hands after the 
manner of the conventional stage father. 


BLUE beard’s chamber. 


29 


The evening of the ball arrived. The event really 
had aroused great enthusiasm. Romantic young ladies 
declared it put them in mind of the Duchess of Rich- 
mond’s famous ball at Brussels the night before Water- 
loo, looked up “ Childe Harold,” and quoted — - 

“ There was mounting in hot haste.” 

But these were the exception. Generally the younger 
portion of the community looked forward to a capital 
dance, and the elder to a capital supper Miss Smerdon 
and Neilie were of course there under the charge of 
Mrs. Montague, and Miss Smerdon was most thoroughly 
mistress of the situation. Not only had Mrs. Montague 
a large acquaintance, but Frances was well known and 
popular with the officers of the — th. The two girls were 
speedily in great request, and it was not long before 
Miss Smerdon brought up Hugh Fleming to be intro- 
duced to her friend. 

Capital ball. Miss Lynden,” said Fleming, as he led 
her away to join the dancers; “but Manchester strikes 
me as having gone mad. The whole thing seems so ut- 
terly unreal. I can’t help feeling that I’m the shallow- 
est of impostors.” 

“ I don’t understand you,” said the girl. 

“ What I mean is this,” said Fleming. “ Manchester 
is feting us, dining us, giving us this ball, all just as 
if we’d done something. Not only we haven’t, not only 
we never may, but we may never even have the chance. 
I always feel that I’m dining out under false pretences. ” 

“Very proper of you to say so, but you’re wrong 
all the same. I’ll admit that, in a vulgar sense, you 
are discounting your laurels before you’ve won them, 
but you will have your opportunity before long, and 


30 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


English women have no doubt about English soldiers 
winning their laurels when the chance comes.” 

“ Very prettily put, Miss Lynden; but you may do 
any amount of hard fighting without distinguishing 
yourself.” 

‘‘ You’re a little selfish, Mr. Fleming,” said the young 
lady smiling. ‘‘ As the individual, yes ; as a regiment, 
no; and you soldiers are very proud of the corps to 
which you belong, are you not?” 

“Yes. There are two things a man seldom loses his 
sympathy for : his old school and his old regiment. 
While he’s in it, it’s the one regiment.” ^ 

“ Yes, I’ve seen enough of you military men to know 
that.” 

“One of our weaknesses,” laughed Fleming, as he 
put his arm round her waist and whirled her off to the 
inspiriting strain of “The Sturm March.” 

Nell Lynden was looking extremely well that even- 
ing. If not a pretty girl, she was at all events a de- 
cidedly attractive one, as with dark chestnut hair, 
bright hazel eyes, good teeth, and a neat figure, she could 
not well help being. 

She was not accomplished, but there were some two 
or three things that Nell could do to perfection. Her 
waltzing was the poetry of motion. She had not much 
voice, but to hear her warble an old English ballad in 
those low contralto tones of hers would stir most men’s 
pulses. She was a very self-reliant girl, partly by na^ 
ture, but still more so by her bringing-up. She had 
never met with ill-treatment or unkindness, but for all 
that she had always regarded herself as a friendless lit- 
tle Arab, with only herself to depend upon. Indeed, 
Frances Smerdon was the only intimate friend of her 


BLUE BEARD’S CHAMBER. 


31 


own sex she had ever made ; and there was one side of 
Frances’s character which she was incapable of under- 
standing ; that was the imaginative side of her disposi- 
tion. People of very sanguine temperament can never 
control themselves. Not even in old age do they ut- 
terly abandon the habit. They build their castles in 
the air on the largest scale and upon the slenderest 
foundations, and constantly as these Chateaux d' Espagiie 
come tumbling about their ears, they are neither dis- 
couraged nor disconcerted. 

‘‘Well, Miss Lynden,” said Fleming, as, their valse 
finished, he took his charge back to her chaperon^ “ I 
hope your prophecy may prove true — that we shall have 
the opportunity of winning our laurels before the year’s 
out, and also that individually I shall be quick enough 
to snatch at mine when the chance comes. ” 

“You’ve got one grand quality for a soldier, Mr. 
Fleming,” replied the girl, laughing — “dogged perti- 
nacity. You would never have won that walking match 
if you hadn’t. It would be hard to convince you that 
you were beaten about anything. ” 

“I don’t like giving in,” replied Hugh. 

“Neither do I,” returned the girl. “We are both 
what our friends, Mr. Fleming, call obstinate.” 

That the war should be the ruling topic of conversa- 
tion was inevitable. A considerable part of the English 
people still found it difficult to believe that they really 
were at war — destined to remain in that belief, too, for 
some months to come. The men of that time knew 
from their fathers how England had rung with the news 
of victories when the century was young and fully ex- 
pected news of a great battle before six weeks were 
over. But things are not done quite so quickly as all 


32 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


that. Where to bring off a fight used to be a knotty 
problem in the latter days of the prize-ring; and this 
was just the point which puzzled British rulers. Russia 
vaguely told them to come on, but had inconsiderately 
forgotten to name where the combat should take place. 

Miss Smerdon, as we know, had no belief that there 
would ever be actual hostilities, and she was rather chaff- 
ing Byng on obtaining hospitality under false pretences. 
Indeed, it really was a joke in the regiment that they 
were being feted mainly because their predecessors had^ 
been sent campaigning. 

“ Ah, you can chaff us. Miss Smerdon,” said Byng, 

“ but we really have a good deal the best of the joke. 
You see we’ve got the cakes and ale, and may never 
gather the laurels.” 

‘‘ There, never mind the war,” replied Frances, let’s 
talk about something else. You know Miss Lynden; 
you’ve met her at our house.” 

“ Certainly,” rejoined Byng. ‘‘Is thy servant blind 
that he could forget her?” 

“ Have you ever met Dr. Lynden?” 

“ Only once, and that was at a small bachelor dinner. 
How I was included in that to the present moment I 
can’t imagine. They were a scientific lot, and how they 
came to think that a captain of infantry was a savant I 
can’t conceive.” 

“ Now tell me all about it. Captain Byng. This inter- 
ests me.” 

“ More than it did me,” rejoined the soldier. “ They 
talked a good deal about things a little over my head. 
Nothing for it but the old magpie dodge, you know. I 
didn’t talk much, but I thought the more. I know I 
got through no end of claret.” 


BLUE beard’s chamber. 


33 


Nonsense, Captain Byng. You must know what they 
talked about, and I particularly want to know.” 

‘‘Well, chemical discoveries, new beliefs, and all 
sorts of things you never hear at a mess-table. Blest if 
I don’t think everyone of the party had a religion of 
his own — ” 

“Except yourself,” said Miss Smerdon, sweetly. 
“ But you surely can recollect some of the talk if you try. 
Captain Byng.” 

“ Indeed, I can’t. My sole recollection of that even- 
ing was, that it was dull, that the claret was good, and 
that I was there by mistake.” 

“ It’s very provoking. You know I am staying here 
with the Lyndens. The doctor is a charming old man, 
but I’m dreadfully curious about him.” 

“Clever old fellow,” replied Byng. “They were all 
too clever for me; but I’m bound to say I don’t think 
Dr. Lynden would have gone on propounding his rig- 
marole theories if the others had left him alone.” 

“I only wish I had had half your opportunity,” re- 
joined Miss Smerdon. “ Now take me back to Mrs. 
Montague, please, for it’s getting late, and I dare say 
she’s wanting to go home. ” 

Byng did as he was bid, and as he wished his fair 
partner “good night” marvelled much in what way he 
had missed his opportunities. It was impossible for 
him to know the theory that Miss Smerdon’s vivid im- 
agination had conceived concerning her host, and that 
she regarded Captain Byng as having been present at 
a secret conclave of adepts in mysticism. 

3 


CHAPTER IV. 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 

“You see, Pollie, I’m a man of intellect, that’s- 
what I am. I may be only an ordinary police-constable 
now; but my chance will come, and then you’ll see a 
lot about that ‘active and intelligent officer,’ and all 
the other clap-trap.” 

“ Of course you are, Dick ; everybody knows you are 
awfully clever,” and Miss Phybbs looked admiringly at 
the sandy-haired young man in a policeman’s uniform, 
with whom she was walking. 

Constable Tarrant looked at her suspiciously for a 
moment. He was quite aware his talents were not so 
universally admitted as Polly suggested. But he was 
a young man with a very excellent opinion of himself, 
and though, during the two years he had been in the 
force, nothing had taken place to afford any grounds for 
the belief, he was certainly firmly impressed with the 
idea that he was destined to achieve greatness in the 
career upon which he had embarked. 

Polly Phybbs was a thin-lipped, black beady-eyed 
young woman, a trustworthy, capable servant, and with 
no weakness about her excepting her love for this cousin 
of hers, Richard Tarrant. Whatever he said was law to 
lyher. She was four or five years his senior, and he had 
made love to her from the time he was fifteen. Not 
very disinterested love either, for from the very com- 
34 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 


35 


mencement he had utilized her in every possible way. 
He invested her with the general supervision of his 
wardrobe, let her wait upon him, and work for him, and 
spent a considerable portion of her wages for her to 
boot. A sharp, hard-working girl she was, never long 
out of a good situation, and she might by this have saved 
money if it had not been for her infatuation for her 
cousin. Shrewd though she was on all other matters^ 
on this point she was blind. Though a smart-looking 
girl, with a rather neat figure, nobody would call her 
good-looking. It might be that she attracted no other 
sweetheart, but certain it is that she had been for the 
last seven or eight years completely devoted to Richard 
Tarrant. When, after having failed twice or thrice in 
his attempts to get a living, Dick succeeded in getting 
into the police force, she quite believed that it was due 
to the display of considerable talent on his part, and 
felt quite sure that he would sooner or later distinguish 
himself. She was not pledged to be married to him, 
but he was her young man, and she quite understood that 
they would be married some of these days — some of these 
days being interpreted into such time as she should have 
saved money enough to start housekeeping on. 

‘‘Now,” said Dick, “you see in my profession” — 
Police Constable Tarrant was given to speaking gran- 
diloquently of his calling — “ a fellow’s only got to 
keep his eyes open, and his turn must come. Now you 
know, Polly, I always was a regular wonner for observ- 
ing.” 

Polly dutifully assented, although she could call to 
mind no particular recollections of this faculty in her 
cousin. 

“ I notice everything. If I see a chap loitering, I says 


36 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


to myself at once: ‘ Now, what’s he loitering for?’ He 
don’t gammon me that he’s tired and his boots hurt him. 
‘On you go, my man,’ says I. Bless you, he might be 
keeping watch while two or three of his pals commit a 
burglary. No, no, my girl; my eye is everywhere, 
and when your eye’s everywhere you’re bound — well, 
you’re bound to see something at last,” concluded Mr. 
Tarrant, rather impotently. 

It did not occur to Polly that in a big city like Man- 
chester those gimlet eyes of Constable Tarrant’s ought, 
in the course of two years, to have detected crime of 
some nature. Dick had never told her of any such 
success, neither had he told her of a pretty sharp repri- 
mand he had received from his superiors when a gen- 
tleman’s watch was snatched almost under his very 
nose, without attracting his observation. 

“Now,” resumed Tarrant, “this master of yours is a 
queer sort of a man. What can he want with a side 
door to his house? You see all these villa residences 
are built exactly alike, except your house. Now, who 
is Dr. Lynden that he should have a side door all to his- 
self? That’s what I want to know.” 

“ Lor’, Dick, my master’s as quiet an old gentleman 
as you’d meet anywhere. There’s no harm in him.” 

“That’s your unsuspecting nature,” replied the con- 
stable, loftily. “The law is suspicious; the police, 
which is an arm of the law, is suspicious too — me. I’m 
suspicious — it’s my duty.” 

“I tell you what: it’s all nonsense you’re being sus- 
picious of master. And as for Miss Lynden, she is as 
sweet a young lady as ever I saw — ” 

“Don’t rile me, Polly; you’ll make me suspicious of 
you next. I tell you, sometimes when I’ve been hang- 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 


37 


ing about here after you, I’ve seen two or three suspic- 
ious characters go in at that side door.” 

“What do you call suspicious characters, Dick?” 

“They were men,” replied Constable Tarrant, glar- 
ing at his companion in a most Othello-like manner. 

“Some of master’s chemical friends, most likely,*' 
suggested Miss Phybbs. 

“ Friends ! Lovers — lovers of yours !” exclaimed Tar- 
rant, with a burst of well-acted jealousy. 

“ Now, don’t be foolish, Dick. You know I care for 
nobody but you. Men do come in at times by that door 
to see master. It was built on purpose. They are 
friends interested in his experiments, and go straight to 
the chemical room without going through the house.” 

“Polly,” said Tarrant, endeavoring to call up a look 
of preternatural sagacity, “your master’s conduct is sus- 
picious. It’s your duty to the public at large to keep 
your eye on him. It’s your duty to me to keep your eye 
on him.” 

“ I assure you you’re all wrong. My master’s a quiet, 
harmless old gentleman, who shuts himself with his pots 
and pans, and blows himself up occasionally. I go in 
now and then when he’s there; but bless you, there’s 
nothing to see in the room.” 

“It’s not likely a woman would see anything in it. It 
would look very different, no doubt, to a police officer.” 

“ But what is it you suspect the doctor of doing?” 

“ That’s it,” replied Constable Tarrant. “I suspect 
him ; it doesn’t signify what of, at present. Keep your 
eye on him, Polly.” 

Polly laughed as she replied : “ Of course I will, if 
you tell me to. And now I must run away. Kiss me, 
Dick, before I go, and don’t be long before you come 


38 


KEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


and see me again.” And their embraee over, Miss 
Phybbs sped home eonseious that she had eonsiderably 
exeeeded the time for whieh she had been granted leave 
of absenee. 

‘‘ I don’t know what he’s tip to. I don’t know what 
his little game is, but the eireumstanees are suspieious,” 
said Mr. Tarrant, as he walked quiekly baek to his own 
dwelling. Let’s reekon it all up,” he continued, stop- 
ping and placing his forefinger of his right hand sol- 
emnly on the palm of his left. “ First, you’ve a doctor 
with no visible means of earning his living. Verdict 
on that, rum [strange], and I only wish I knew how he 
did it. Secondly, he has a private room, into which 
nobody is ever allowed to go. Rummer. Lastly, he’s 
a private stair and a private door. What’s he want with 
a private door? Rummest. Men go in by day; what 
goes in by night?” There was a pause of some seconds, 
and then Mr. Tarrant suddenly laid the forefinger of his 
right hand against the side of his nose, winked at an 
imaginary audience, and ejaculated ‘‘ Bodies!” 

Doctor Lynden meanwhile continued the harmless 
tenor of his way, dining out occasionally, for the most 
part with the savants of Manchester, among whom he 
is generally well known. He spends a good deal of 
time in his laboratory, in experiments presumably, the 
result of which has not yet been published to the out- 
side world. That Miss Smerdon had a strong girlish 
curiosity to see inside of his den he knows, but he 
little thinks what that imaginative young lady pictures 
his real life. Still further would he have been astonished 
to hear that a rather thick-headed young policeman was 
also taking a lively interest in his proceedings. At the 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 


39 


former he would probably have only laughed ; but had 
he been cognizant of the latter, he would doubtless have 
been seriously annoyed Nobody cares to be under the 
observation of the police. The guilty naturally dislike 
it; the innocent fiercely resent it; but to find oneself 
under the self-imposed surveillance of a young police 
constable would exasperate most men. Fortunately for 
his peace of mind, Doctor Lynden was in blissful ignor- 
ance of there even being such a person as Police Con- 
stable Tarrant in existence. 

But the summer slips away. Miss Smerdon has long 
ago gone back to her home. The army has moved 
from Gallipolli to Varna, but still those bulletins of 
‘‘glorious victory,” for which the British public yearn, 
are not forthcoming. The cavalry has lost a good 
many men and horses from an expedition into the un- 
healthy Dobrutschka, but of actual crossing of swords 
and exchanging of shots there is as yet no sign. Still 
rumor has it that both French and English fleets, with 
innumerable transports, have been collected at Varna, 
that such a flotilla has not been seen sin^e the days of the 
Armada ; and, indeed, that probably would have seemed 
a very small affair compared to that assembled in the 
Black Sea under the flags of the allies. 

Russia has long ago yielded the naval supremacy, 
and is destined ere long to make grim reparation to the 
Turks for Sinope by voluntarily sinking her own fleet 
in the mouth of Sebastopol harbor. That an expedi- 
tion of some sort -has been decided upon, that the 
combined forces of French and English are about to 
embark and the war to commence in bitter earnest, is now 
well known, though the exact destination of the expe- 
dition is kept as secret as possible. But let it land where 


40 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


it will, it will be upon Russian soil, and that a pitched 
battle will speedily follow is confidently predicted. 
This time the quid mines are right. Another week or 
two, and all England will ring with the victory of the 
Alma. A little longer, and men look grimly and women 
weep over those terrible lists of killed and wounded 
which inevitably follow all glorious victories. Men 
think sadly of many a good fellow with whom they will 
never clasp hands more, and maidens think sadly of 
friends who had been rather more than friends to them 
but a few months back, and who they had dreamed 
might in the future be something dearer still. But those 
who conduct wars have no time for sentiment ; the rav- 
ening monster requires perpetual fresh food for his in- 
satiable maw, and the sole thought of the authorities is 
how the losses are to be made good — how to fill the 
places of those who have fallen ; and it was already evi- 
dent to all military men that to find the necessary re- 
inforcements will tax the small British army to the 
utmost. Men who are fretting their hearts out because 
they have been so far ‘‘ left out of the dance’' grew ju- 
bilant. They feel that it cannot be long now before they 
are called upon to bear their part. Then comes the 
false report of the fall of Sebastopol, and these restless 
spirits are filled with alarm lest the whole thing should 
be over without their having anything to do with it. 
But that canard is soon exploded, and when the real 
state of things becomes known England generally 
awakes to the fact that this is no military promenade, 
but that if she is seeking a big war she has got it. A 
few weeks more, and home comes the story of Inker- 
man, and when the bulletins of that glorious but grisly 
battle are read — accounts of such fierce hand-to-hand 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 


41 


fighting as recalled the storming of Badajoz and other 
such scenes in the Peninsular war — sensible men could 
no longer doubt England was committed to the biggest 
struggle vshe had been engaged in since the Titan was 
caged at St. Helena. The country has woke up in earnest 
now, and not only is every available soldier in the 
United Kingdom hurried to the front, but from all parts 
of the Empire England’s sons are summoned to her aid. 

It is needless to say that the — th had received march- 
ing orders ; they were to go to Malta in the first instance, 
thence to be pushed on to the Crimea in the early spring. 
Hard-worked and hard-pressed though the army at the 
front was, yet the authorities found they were hard put 
to it to feed it, dreadfully depleted though its ranks 
were. 

Some months had elapsed since that great ball which 
inaugurated their arrival in Manchester had been given 
to Her Majesty’s — th, and in that time the officers had 
naturally become intimate with the people of the place. 
Miss Lynden, for instance, had become well known to 
several of them, but the most persistent visitor at the 
doctor’s house was Hugh Fleming. He made no dis- 
guise to himself that he was falling deeply in love. He 
knew, and if he didn’t it would have been for no want 
of telling, that what his chum, Tom B3mg, was continu- 
ally dinning in his ears was true — there was no higher 
pinnacle of folly than the committal of matrimony by a 
subaltern in the army. As matters stood at present, he 
declared, all love-rnaking ought to be punishable b}^ 
court martial. The idea of a man who is just going 
out to fight for his queen and country, for pay and 
plunder, for glory and promotion, whispering love 
speeches was criminal with no extenuating circum- 


42 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


stances, and deserved to be met by placing a bandage 
round the culprit’s eyes and interviewing him with a 
file of loaded muskets, at the back of the barrack square. 

“Why do I tell you all this, young un? Why do I 
keep pitching into you, you — ? Because you want it. 
You’re getting spoons, disgusting spoons, awful spoons, 
on Miss Lynden. That’s a nice thing to do, as things 
are at present, for a young man who is legally supposed 
to have come to years of discretion.” 

“ Shut up, Tom. We’re old friends, and I don’t want 
to quarrel ; but I wont hear anything against Miss 
Lynden.” 

“Who wants to say anything against Miss Lynden? 
She is just the nicest girl I know, and that’s the only 
excuse for your selfishness and folly. I suppose you 
think you’re behaving well to the girl you profess to love 
by bringing her heart into her mouth every time she 
hears the newsman yelling out, ‘Glorious victory’ — to 
make her heart jump and her color come and go when- 
ever she hears the Crimean mail is in ; and finally, to 
make her cry her eyes out because your worthless car- 
cass has been riddled by Russian bullets.” 

“Well, Tom,” rejoined Fleming, laughing, “it’s to 
be devoutly hoped that you are not gifted with second- 
sight, because the view you are taking of my immediate 
future is, to put it mildly, unpleasant. Why am I 
more likely to be shot than you, I should like to know*? 
You’re much more likely to run your thick head into 
danger than I am.” 

“A palpable, miserable evasion of the question,” re- 
turned Byng. “ Yru’re getting desperately spoony on 
Miss Lynden; and worse still, you are letting her 
know it. It’s not right. Bottle your feelings up, re- 


CONSTABLE TARRANT. 


43 


press your emotions as I do. Do you suppose you’re 
the only fellow who’s — ” and here the speaker stopped 
abruptly, conscious of having in his zeal said more 
than he meant. 

“ No other fellow what?” ejaculated Fleming in con- 
siderable surprise. 

Never mind; nothing. Remember what I have 
said. Drop making love to Miss Lynden,” and with 
these words Byng somewhat hastily left his friend’s 
room. 

I dare sa}^ Byng’s advice was theoretically good ; but 
human nature is wont to play the very deuce with theor- 
ies. There is nothing like a big war to precipitate mat- 
ters of this kind, and it is just where the love words ought 
not to be spoken that our feelings get beyond our control, 
and those love words slip out which are never forgotten. 
Ah, well, I doubt if those from whose eyes the tears are 
destined to flow — those who are doomed to mourn their 
dead — would have had it otherwise. There is some- 
thing sweet in those sorrowful memories. 

“For the mark of rank in nature 
Is capacity for pain, 

And the anguish of the singer 
Makes the sweetness of the pain.** 


CHAPTER V. 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 

‘‘They have come at last, as you always said they 
would,” exclaimed Hugh Fleming, as he entered the 
Lyndens’ drawing-room one gloomy day about the mid- 
dle of November — “our orders for the East.” 

“Yes, I thought so,” replied the young lady, as she 
shook hands, but in by no means the exultant tones 
with which people usually greet the fulfilment of their 
prophecies. Who of us have not suffered from that 
ever-recurring, usually detestable, “I told you so”? 
How is it that our accession to the rewards of this life 
are never announced beforehand, while its evils and 
misfortunes are so industriously foretold to us? 

Hugh Fleming should have been in high spirits at 
having attained his heart’s desire; but somehow he 
was not. He had come to pay a farewell visit. He 
had had a good many to pay, and had put saying good- 
by to the Lyndens off to the last. Good-by, when it 
is for an indefinite period, is often a painful thing to 
say, even though it is mercifully veiled from us that 
sometimes it is good-by forever. Still no such thought 
oppressed Hugh’s mind on this occasion. He was off 
to the Crimea, of course. Every one who wore a sword 
was bound to go there now. He v/ould come back 
again in due time; a captain — perhaps a major — who 

44 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 


45 


knows? But he was quite conscious that saying fare- 
well to Nellie Lynden was the hardest task that had 
ever fallen to his lot yet. He knew that he loved her 
dearly ; he knew that he ought not to tell her so ; and 
yet he was guiltily conscious that, if not in words, he 
had been telling her so for some weeks past. A genu- 
ine love story is told long before it is put into matter-of- 
fact words. ‘‘ I love you ” requires no speech to proclaim 
it, and put what guard we may upon our tongues, no 
woman needs their assistance to learn it. After the first 
conventional speeches, a silence fell upon those two. As 
a rule they had plenty to say to each other, but of late 
they were conscious that there was a barrier which had 
not been broken. But what they had both known it must 
end in had come at last. The word “good-by” had to 
be spoken. The initiative was with Hugh, and he was 
sore puzzled how to begin. 

I once heard a well-known soldier, who had won for 
himself countless decorations, asked in a club smoking- 
room what was the nastiest bit of work he had ever had. 
He paused a little before he answered, and it was easy 
to see that he was recalling the scene to his mind’s eye. 
“ Breaking to a lady,” he replied at last, “ that her hus- 
band had been killed at the head of the stormers that 
morning.” Bidding good-by to the woman he loves is 
the hardest thing for a soldier when ordered on active 
service. 

“ I suppose they have given you very short notice, to 
finish with,” said Miss Lynden, woman-like the first to 
relieve the awkwardness of the situation. 

“ Yes,” rejoined Hugh; “ we are all supposed to be 
ready to go now at a moment’s notice. We embark at 
Liverpool the day after to-morrow. Of course, we’re 


46 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


glad to go; but we’re sorry to say good-by to so many 
who’ve — who’ve been kind to us.” 

“ We shall miss you all very much. I hear we’re to 
be left quite forlorn for the present, as you are not to 
be replaced. Is that so?” 

Hugh felt the situation was intolerable. 

“ I don’t know, and I don’t care!” he replied passion- 
ately. “ I know I oughtn’t to say it, Nell — you will let 
me call you Nell for the last time — wont you?” 

Her lips moved slightly, but she made no reply. 

“ I ought not to say it, Nell, I know,” he continued, 
“ but I cannot go out there without telling you I love 
you. I am not going to ask you to promise yourself to 
me. I will only ask you to think of me, and to think 
kindly of me. Remember, when you read any account 
of our doings out there — remember there is one amongst 
us who can never forget you. And if ever I do any- 
thing that brings me into notice, promise to send me 
just one line of congratulation.” 

It has been before mentioned that Nell Lynden was 
a quiet, possessed, self-reliant young woman. But it is 
just these self-reliant heroines who' disappoint one so 
cruelly at the crucial moment. If she was self-reliant 
she was also a warm-hearted girl, and (I apologize for 
her) all she did at this critical moment was to burst 
into a flood of tears and gasp out, “ Oh, Hugh!” 

For a moment Hugh Fleming was dismayed — tears 
usually do discompose a man — and deeply repented him 
of his rash avowal. But when he saw Nellie smile 
through her tears it gave him the courage to become 
practical, and passing his arm round her waist he did 
what was obviously his duty under the circumstances — 
kissed them away. 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 


47 


It was very foolish of me, I know, Hugh,” said the 
girl at last. “ I know you must go ; but it seems bitter 
to part from you just now. And then no doubt there 
are scores of women in my place. Still, remember 
what those terrible lists are to us. Ah, it was bad 
enough to read them after the Alma and Inkerman, 
but when you are out there, my own, the very rumors 
of fighting will make my heart turn sick.” 

“ Nell, Nell, this will never do! Remember, my dar- 
ling, you are a soldier’s sweetheart now.’’ 

“ I know,” she replied, smiling, and I am not going 
to be foolish any longer. But, Hugh, I’ve hardly had 
time yet to get used to the position. You will let me 
come to Liverpool and see you off, wont you?’' 

“No, I think not. You see there is no time to an- 
nounce our engagement now, and I can’t bear to think 
of you in the turmoil there’s sure to be, all by yourself.” 

“I don’t care who knows of our engagement,” ex- 
claimed the girl proudly. 

“No, Nell,” replied Fleming, “but that’s just where 
it is, they will see you down at the docks and wont know 
of it.” 

“ Nor do I care about that; but I do care very much 
about seeing the last of you.” 

“ I can’t help it,” replied Hugh, “ you must be guided 
by me in this matter. No, Nell, my dear, we will say 
our good-by here. There is one thing, you know : we 
can write to each other by every mail.” 

“Ah, yes, and mind, you do so. I may keep you to 
myself the whole afternoon now, may I not?” 

“ Willingly, ” rejoined Fleming. “ I am your prisoner 
for the rest of the day if you choose. I suppose I had 
better tell your father.” 


48 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ That shall be as you think best. If you don’t, I 
must. But Hugh, what will your own people say 
about it?” 

“Well, you see,” he replied, “I’ve kept pretty 
straight, and never given them any trouble since I 
joined. Then, further than saying that I ought to wait 
till I have got higher in my profession, what can they 
do except congratulate me? Besides, if, instead of the 
sweetest girl in England, I was about to introduce a 
Gorgon to the family, they couldn’t say anything to me 
just now. Why, the most peccant amongst us are voted 
white as snow nowadays — the most uncompromising 
fathers have granted plenary absolution.” 

“ It will be a sore trouble to me if your people are 
very much opposed to our engagement,” said the girl 
thoughtfully. 

“ But you will stick to me, Nell, wont you?” he asked 
anxiously. 

“Yes,” she replied. “ I’m yours forever; let it be as 
long as it may before you come to claim me. But I 
own I am nervous about what your people; will think 
of it.” 

Hugh now set himself earnestly to dissipate any mis- 
givings Miss Lynden might have upon that score. It 
is unnecessary to follow the conversation of the lovers 
further; suffice it to say that Hugh Fleming was absent 
from the temporary mess which the — th had established 
at the Queen’s Hotel, nor did any of his brother officers 
set eyes on him that night. 

The next day was their last in Manchester, and what 
time they could snatch from duty was filled by repeat- 
ing those “ last good-bys ” which people always feel 
impelled to speak when leaving their native country. 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 


49 


Hugh, therefore, saw little of his brother officers all that 
day, and embarked the next, hugging his secret closely 
to his own breast. 

But there never was a man in love who did not crave 
to impart his madness to somebody, and few amongst 
us have not some friend who, to some extent the con- 
fidant of our hopes and aspirations, is still oftener a 
recipient of our follies and vexations. It was so with 
Hugh, and by the time they had ‘‘ rolled through the 
gut of Gibraltar '' Tom Byng was fully acquainted with 
the story of his subaltern’s love. 

‘‘ Well, you’ve done it now,” he remarked; and all I 
have got to do is to offer you my hearty congratulations. 
Please to forget all I ever said to you on the subject. 
What one says to a man before he does a thing is totally 
inapplicable after he has done it. If this wind lasts, we 
shall be at Malta in no time. I wonder where they will 
put us up.” 

From what those fellows told us at Gib., they must 
be pretty full there.” 

‘‘Full!” exclaimed Byng. “Packed like sardines in 
a box, I am told ; and tents in the open will most likely 
be our lot. Never mind; it’s all on the way to the 
Crimea; and as for tents! why, there’s nothing like 
getting used to them while we have leisure.” 

Malta, indeed, was as full just then as it could hold. 
Its hotels were thronged with people curious to hear the 
latest rumors from the seat of war — women anxious 
about sons and husbands. Sick and wounded officers 
invalided down from the front told direful tales of the 
difficulties of getting up provisions to the plateau still 
grimly held by the Allies. Both sides seemed to have 
stopped for breath after the furious struggle of Inker- 
4 


50 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


man, and it was now rather an open question as to 
which were besiegers and which were besieged — whether 
the Allies were investing Sebastopol or the Russians 
had invested the intrenched camp of the Allies. At 
Malta, of course, supplies were plentiful, and it really 
seemed almost a mockery that men were living well on 
that sun-baked rock while their brethren but a little 
way off were near starving on the storm-swept plateau 
of the Chersonese. That half-dozen miles of almost 
trackless mire between Balaklava and the front quite 
explained why it was so. 

Dum vivinius vivarnus. And Malta was never gayer than 
it was that winter. Even those most anxious to join 
their comrades already in front of Sebastopol were fain 
to confess that there was nothing doing up there at 
present. As far as the English were concerned, it was 
the same weary, monotonous trench work, only relieved 
by an occasional sortie. With their Allies it was dif- 
ferent. Stronger-handed than the British, the French 
persistently continued to sap up to the Bastion de Mat — 
a proceeding to which the enemy offered fierce and jeal- 
ous opposition. 

Still every one knew that nothing of any consequence 
could be attempted till the spring. Whenever British 
regiments are gathered together, they are sure to de- 
velop three national peculiarities. They are certain to 
start cricket, racing, and theatricals. If it was the 
wrong time of year for cricket and racing, private the- 
atricals were just the thing, and no less than two com- 
panies were organized that winter. Hugh Fleming 
greatly distinguished himself in one of these, and his 
Crepin in The Wonderful Woman ” was pronounced to 
have soared quite above the range of the ordinary ama- 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 


51 


teur. But though Hugh’s face flushed with pleasure at 
seeing himself favorably noticed in print, yet there was 
mingled with it a half-contempt that he should be en- 
gaged in such frivolities. This was not what he came 
out to do. Such pinchbeck laurels were not the things 
he had promised himself to lay at Nell Lynden’s feet. 
He had yet to learn that the more you can combine 
relaxation with the serious business of fighting, the 
better for every one. Take your men out of themselves, 
let their trade be what it will, if you want to get the 
maximum of work out of them. And the successful 
representative of Acres will most likely be well to the 
front in a hand-to-hand melee not forty-eight hours 
afterward. 

Those were halcyon days for Hugh. Nearly every 
mail brought him letters from Nellie, in which pas- 
sionate love was mingled with all the chit-chat about 
those he knew in Manchester. “ I hear constantly, ” she 
said in one of her letters, ‘‘from Frances Smerdon. 
What have you, or at all events some of you, done to her? 
vShe is so bitter against you all. I heard from her only 
the other day, and she made me quite angry. ‘As for 
the poor — th, ’ she said, ‘we need not fret about them; 
there is always a cessation of hostilities when they ap- 
pear upon the scene. Papa says that he thinks nothing 
more will take place, and that a peace will be patched 
up in the spring. No, we needn’t be anxious about the 
— th; they are very nice fellows, but they are not a 
regiment, my-dear. 

Now if this had angered Nellie Lynden, it had stung 
Hugh Fleming to the quick. It was a gibe about which 
all the men of the corps were very sensitive. They 
were as smart a regiment as there was in the service,. 


52 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


and one of the seniors of the Army List, but there re- 
mained the bitter fact that they had hardly the name of 
a battle emblazoned on their colors. It was luck. While 
some regiments seemed always in the way when hard 
fighting was going on, others, from no fault of their 
own, seemed never to hand on such occasions. The 
same with individuals ; and though, having once gained 
distinction, a man can, to some extent, force himself for- 
ward, yet many a young soldier has panted for the op- 
portunity never vouchsafed him. The objurgation that 
escaped Hugh’s lips as he read this was anything but 
complimentary to Miss Smerdon. Although they had 
made jests in Manchester of the premature way in which 
they had been fHed^ yet there had always been a tinge 
of soreness at the bottom of their hearts arising from 
this very subject, and had anybody thought of connect- 
ing the two, and chaffing them about it, he would 
have aroused the wrath of the corps with a vengeance. 
Hugh pondered for a little as to what could have drawn 
forth Miss Smerdon’s sarcasm. Her father had been 
very hospitable to the regiment during their stay at 
Newport, and she herself had been popular with all of 
them. What could have made her turn round and taunt 
her old friends in this fashion? 

However spring at last made its appearance, and de- 
spite Mr. Smerdon’s prophecy brought with it neither 
dove nor olive branch, but an order for Her Majesty’s 
— th to proceed amongst the very first reinforcements to 
the front. The sun shone brightly as they steamed out of 
Valetta harbor. All signs of that dreary winter seemed 
to have vanished. As Tom Byng said, “ By Jove, how 
those fellows before Sebastopol must revel in this I 


MISS SMERDON GROWS SARCASTIC. 53 

How they must kick up their heels after all they have 
gone through!” 

Across the bright dancing waters of the Mediterra- 
nean the good ship rapidly makes her way ; up the sea 
of Marmora, through the Dardanelles, looking perfectly 
lovely in all the glory of the early spring. They had 
a good passage up the usually stormy Euxine, and as 
they near Balaklava a dull, monotonous boom breaks 
upon their ears and informs them that the belligerents 
have woke from their winter torpor, and, though as yet 
somewhat leisurely, are recommencing hostilities. 

Ah, Miss Smerdon will have to back her speech, I 
fancy, before long,” said Byng, as they threaded their 
way into the crowded and land-locked harbor (Hugh 
had read him that extract from Nellie’s letter). ‘‘I 
wonder whether she’d feel it should she chance to see 
that we’ve been in a big fight, and that some of us had 
gone under in adding another blazon to the color. ” 

Ah, she’s been rather severe lately on our want of 
laurels.” 

“ Yes, a girl who speaks of us as she does is not likely 
to cry much for us,” said Byng, sulkily. 

Hugh eyed his chum queerly for a moment, and then, 
as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, rejoined: 

Don’t think you quite understand women. There 
was a lady called Beatrice and a man called Benedick.” 
Never — except in Shakespeare,” said Byng. 

Hugh Fleming shrugged his shoulders and walked 
away without reply. - 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. 

“Hulloa, young tin,” exclaimed Tom Byng as he 
thrust his head into the door of Fleming’s tent, “ if it 
was some time before we got introduced to the trenches, 
I’ll be bound to say the big- wigs are doing their best 
to make us quite at home in them now.” 

“ Why, you don’t mean to say we give it them again 
to-night?” 

Indeed we do, my boy ; and if you’ve got nothing 
ready to eat you’d better come and feed with me at 
once. I don’t know yet what’s in the wind, but the 
Brigade Major, who is an old pal of mine, told me we 
were likely to have a very lively night of it.” 

“All right; I’m your man, Tom. I shall be ready in 
two minutes, and then I’ll come with you.” 

“ Yes, it’s sharp practice,” said Tom Byng, as they sat 
down to dinner. “ I only came out of the trenches my- 
self this morning; but it’s all fair enough. The regi- 
ments that bore the brunt of the winter are reduced 
almost to shadows. I met a fellow the other day whose 
regiment is in the left attack; he told me that they 
hadn’t two hundred men fit for duty. So of course the 
turn comes heavy upon strong regiments like ours. 
That’s the sherry; help yourself and pass it on. By the 
way, did I tell you my adventures on the WoronzofE 
Road this morning?” 

“ No, what was that?” inquired Pheming. 

54 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. 


55 


‘‘ Well, I don’t know whether you’ve ever been down 
there. The left attack fellows generally take care of it. 
However, for some unscrutable reason we were told off 
for it last night. The trench crosses the road, and we 
have an advanced picket of a subaltern and thirty men, 
covered by a chevaux de frise^ some eighty yards or so 
in advance. I’m afraid it was a bit my fault; but I was 
new to the post, and a trifle anxious. You see when 
you’re told to withdraw at daybreak, it becomes rather 
a nice point. 

I was warned that the Russian rifle-pits commanded 
my trench and would make themselves deuced unpleas- 
ant as soon as they could see. In my anxiety not to 
quit my post too soon I stayed a little too late. As I 
withdrew my advanced picket, two or three fellows had 
a snap at us, but no sooner did I fall in my men and, 
leaving the main trench, proceed to march them up the 
road, than the rifle-pits at the top here in front of the 
right attack commenced squibbing. To retreat leisurely 
may be dignified; but it’s not whist. I wasn’t going to 
lose men if I could help it, so I gave the word to double. 
You know that tall Irishman, Mickey Flinn. He was 
doubling alongside me when he suddenly exclaimed, 
‘I’m shot. Captain Byng, I’m shot.’ 

“‘Come along, my good fellow, come along,’ I cried, 
as I turned round to look at him. He was doubling as 
steady as any man in the company, and gave no sign of 
being wounded. 

“‘I’m shot, sorr,-’ he reiterated, and without slacken- 
ing his gait. 

“‘Where, my good fellow?’ I inquired, as we still 
doubled side by side. ‘ Where, my good fellow ? — where ? 
Come on!’ I once more cried. 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


S6 

“ ‘Right through the body, sorr, ’ he rejoined, without 
in the least relaxing his pace. 

“ ‘Come on!’ I cried; ‘come on!’ And how the deuce 
a man shot through the body succeeded in keeping up 
the steady double like Flinn astonished me greatly. 

“‘Yes, sorr, he exclaimed, continuously, ‘I’m shot — 
shot clean through. ’ 

“Well, I continued my exhortation to keep it up; in 
short, keep it up was the sum total of my advice, and 
the responses to my litany on Flinn’s part were — ‘I’m 
shot, sorr! — I’m shot clean through!’ As soon as we 
turned the bend of the road and were out of fire, I halted 
my party that Flinn’s wounds might be attended to. 
There was the bullet mark certainly, going straight 
through his great-coat in front, and a hole where it 
had come out behind, and if ever you would have said 
a man had been shot through, it was Flinn. 

“ When we came to his tunic it was the same ; but 
when we came to himself there was nothing but a red 
mark running round his ribs. The bullet must have 
struck a button of his great-coat in front, glanced round 
his body, and come out at the back. The queerest 
casualty I’ve seen since I ’we been at work in the trenches. 
The best of the joke is that Flinn’s extremely disgusted 
because I haven’t returned him wounded. It’s not a 
bit that he wants to shirk duty, but he wants to know 
what’s the use of being shot clean through the body if 
yez don’t get the credit of it.” 

“Fall in the covering party !” interrupted the hoarse 
voice of the sergeant from outside the tent. 

“Time’s up,” said Byng. “Here, Stephens,” he 
cried to his servant, “ quick ! give me my revolver. 
It’s a pity to be asked to an evening party and not 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. 57 

be able to take part in the fun. Now, Hugh, come 
along! 

A few minutes more, and they were wending their 
way to the brigade ground where the various trench 
guards formed up, and were formally handed over to 
the colonel destined to command them. 

Who commands the — th?” exclaimed the officer in 
question, as he got off his horse. 

I do, sir!” replied Byng, touching his cap. 

“ You and your fellows are for the advance to-night, 
and are not likely to have a dull time of it, I promise 
you,” said the colonel cheerily. ‘‘The sappers report 
that those ride pits in front of our attack are getting 
too troublesome to be borne with any longer. We 
must have them to-night.” 

“You will find us all ready, sir,” replied Byng, “as 
soon as you give the word to go. ” 

The colonel gave him a good-natured nod. 

His own officers always said of Colonel Croker that 
you could be always sure when you were about to see 
sharp fighting. The colonel's manner was so deuced 
pleasant. 

There was a delay of some ten minutes or so before 
they moved off, waiting for the waning light to die as 
near away as might be ; and then, under cover of the 
semi-darkness, the several guards moved rapidly away 
to their allotted positions. 

Having gained the advanced parallel, Byng collected 
his men, and spread them in lines along the most con- 
venient part of the parapet. 

“We'll just wait another half-hour,” said the colonel, 
“ that all may be comfortably settled in both attacks, 
and then the sooner we have those pits the better. Your 


58 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


men know they’ll be wanted in earnest in. a few 
minutes?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And not a shot, mind, till we’ve got them. We’ll 
carry them with the bayonet. Now wait for the word.” 

It was a still night, and the stars twinkled brightly, 
although the moon was not yet up. Pulses throbbed 
and hearts beat quick as the little band awaited the 
signal, keen and anxious as greyhounds in the leash. 
The big guns boomed at short intervals, and there was 
the usual spattering rifle-fire going on in the French 
trenches on the extreme left. Byng and his followers 
stood with pricked ears, almost breathless from excite- 
ment, waiting the word to go. 

Suddenly through the night air rang out the long- 
expected command, “ — th, forward, charge!” 

In an instant, before the bugle could sound the repe- 
tition of the order, Byng and his brother officers had 
bounded over the parapet, followed by their men, and 
with a loud hurrah dashed across the open, straight for 
the covered pits. So sudden and so unexpected was 
their rush that the enemy had only time to discharge a 
few hurried shots at their assailants. A minute or two 
more and Byng, Fleming, and their followers had tum- 
bled pell mell into the little group of rifle-pits it was 
their object to obtain, and were engaged in a fierce 
hand-to-hand conflict with their tenants. A confused 
hurly-burly, in which oaths, bayonet-thrusts, the crack- 
ing of revolvers, and an occasional death-shriek were 
strangely blended. It did not last long. The dash of 
the attack, and perhaps a slight superiority of numbers, 
speedily told on the side of the English, and the discom- 
fited enemy was soon seen flying back. 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. 


59 


“Well,” said Byng, complacently, as he and Flem- 
ing met at the conclusion of their little victory, “ that 
was a very pretty scrimmage while it lasted. Well 
done, my lads; but don’t think you won’t be served 
with notice to quit before the night’s out. This’ll be a 
comfort to Flinn next time he is called to take a turn 
on the Woronzoff. ’ I hope he has not managed to get 
shot through again this time.” 

“I’m none the worse, sorr, thank you,” growled a 
voice from the background, “ which is more than I can 
say for one or two of them as got in my way; but it’ll 
take a bit more than this before the Woronzoff ’s pleas- 
ant for strolling.” 

“Now, Jackson, what about the casualties? Our 
losses are only slight, are they?” said Byng, as the 
color-sergeant from the left-hand company came up to 
make his report. 

“ Not very heavy, sir, as far as I can see,” replied the 
sergeant; “but we’ve lost Captain Grogan.” 

“Grogan! Good — ! Killed?” said Hugh. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant. “ A shell burst just 
as we cleared the parapet, and a bit of it struck the 
captain and killed him before he had led us a dozen 
yards.” 

“Poor fellow, ” muttered Byng; “that leaves you se- 
nior subaltern now, Fleming. Go and take command 
of the other company. We’re expected to hold this 
position till morning, remember, and by — ! I mean to 
doit.” 

Hugh moved off in obedience to orders, and at this 
juncture Colonel Croker made his appearance. 

“Well done, — th,” he exclaimed cheerily. “Now, 
Captain Byng, you’ve got in and you must keep in. I’ve 


6o 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


got heavy reinforcements drawn tip in the fourth par- 
allel, and shall lead them on as soon as you’re attacked. 
Attacked you’re sure to be in an hour or two, only they 
haven’t got the range as yet. ” And the colonel glanced 
significantly at the shells flying over their heads and 
bursting in all directions. “The sappers are coming 
up directly to reverse the parapet and connect the pits, 
and the noise of their parties will still more madden the 
Russ. ” The colonel walked quietly back to the fourth 
parallel, and for the next half hour the shot and shell 
flew furiously over their heads, though, like the buzz- 
ing of an irritated wasp’s nest, it did but little harm. 
On the contrary, it served to mask the noise of the now 
actively engaged working-party. Then came a lull — 
an ominous lull, it occurred to Hugh Fleming, as he 
strained his eyes through the dim starlight, seeking for 
any sign of the approaching enemy. He had not very 
long to wait. Soon he could discern a dark mass creep- 
ing along the edge of the ravine, whose object evidently 
was to get round his left flank before attacking it. 
Similarly, although Fleming was not aware of it, did 
Byng discover a small column of the enemy attempting 
to steal round his right flank. Byng had very little 
doubt Hugh was equally menaced on the left. Direct- 
ing his men to use their rifles, as he expected he 
immediately answered from the left. Finding them- 
selves discovered, the Russians raised their battle 
slogan, only to be answered by the defiant hurrahs of 
the English. Then ensued some twenty minutes of as 
stubborn fighting as it is possible to witness. True to 
his promise, the colonel had been prompt with his rein- 
forcements, or else the — th must have been swept out 
of the position they had won. Twice were the Rus- 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. 6 1 

sians hurled back from their desperate assault, but their 
gallant leader succeded in rallying them for even a 
third attempt. The steel had been taken out of them, 
however, and they came on in a very half-hearted way. 
Though victorious, the — th had been pretty roughly 
handled in this last struggle, and not only were many 
of them stretched lifeless in the trench, but the stretch- 
ers had a busy time in conveying the wounded to the 
rear. Among them were two of Hugh’s brother sub- 
alterns, one of whom was carried off with a smashed 
arm, and the other had a bullet through his thigh, 
which, when attended to, proved to disqualify him for 
military service forever. The colonel reinforced Byng’s 
party to the extent the position would hold. Once more 
he impressed upon hiin that he must hold the position 
coUte que coUte^ and that he might thoroughly depend 
upon reinforcements, led by the colonel himself, to 
come to his assistance the minute he was seen to be 
attacked. 

‘‘Till the moon rises,” said the chief, “you’ll have a 
ticklish time of it; but as soon as it’s light enough the 
batteries will make it rather hot for the Russians should 
they venture to cross that open ground.” There was 
little need to tell the trench sentries to keep watch that 
night. Little more than an hour elapsed before the 
enemy once more sallied forth from their lines, and 
made another most determined attack. If the conflict 
was not so long as the previous one, it was quite as ob- 
stinate, and in the <:ourse of it. Colonel Croker, while 
personally leading the reinforcements, fell literally 
riddled with bullets, while another subaltern of the 
hard beset — th was carried away very badly wounded. 
Twice more at short intervals did the Russians return 


62 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


to the attack, and in the last of these a bullet stretched 
Tom Byng, to all appearances, lifeless on the ground, 
and the struggle ended. One of the few remaining 
sergeants reported to Hugh Fleming that two-thirds of 
the men were down, and that he, Mr. Fleming, was 
the sole officer left of the half-dozen of the regiment 
that had marched down from camp. 

Black with powder, with clothes torn to ribbons, and 
eyes bloodshot with the thirst to slay, they were a fierce 
and savage-looking band the moon now looked down on. 
It was not likely, Fleming thought now, that any further 
attack would be made upon them, but for all that he 
knew he had to keep vigilant watch until relieved. He 
was in sole charge of the shattered remnant of the — th. 
Poor Tom Byng ! He never thought of his falling. And 
then he thought savagely of Miss Smerdon’s sarcastic 
speech. 

“The bill,” he muttered angrily, “the bill ought to 
satisfy her. Five down out of six is pretty stiff ! And 
we have not quite done with it yet. They will never 
be able to say that the — th is not a fighting regiment 
after this. Some account of such a scrimmage as this 
must get into the papers. It’s a big thing in sorties. I 
wonder whether Nell will be pleased when she reads 
it.” And then suddenly through the trench ran a whis- 
per of, “ Here they come again!” 

In his anxiety to ascertain what was doing, Hugh 
Fleming sprang upon the slight parapet, an act which 
was immediately greeted by a report of two or three 
rifles, the bullets of which sang past unpleasantly close 
to his ears. He jumped back again into the trench, 
but not before he had convinced himself that so far the 
alarm was baseless. Some few Russian sharp-shooters 


THE TAKING OF THE QUARRIES. • 63 

had crept along the edge of the ravine with a view of 
harassing the occupants of their late position, but there 
were apparently no supports behind them. 

The moon died gradually away before the first streaks 
of dawn, and no sooner was the light sufficient than the 
batteries on both sides engaged in a savage snarl over 
the disputed bone of last night. The Russians knew 
well that every hour theit* lost position remained in the 
hands of their assailants made it so much the more 
difficult to recover. It was clear the pits could only be 
retaken by daylight at a great sacrifice. They must 
wait for the next night, and in the mean time, as Mr. 
Flinn said, “ They were showing a deal of nasty temper. ” 

It was weary work after the prolonged excitement of 
the night, waiting through the early morning hours for 
the reliefs to come down ; but they came at last, and 
sadly Hugh Fleming commenced to lead his worn and 
shattered band back to camp. It was impossible to 
regain the right attack without exposing the party to a 
certain amount of fire from the enemy’s guns, and the 
Russians were not the men to overlook their oppor- 
tunity. However, Fleming was fortunate enough to 
accomplish this without further casualties, and finally 
reached the camp, where he found the remainder of the 
regiment anxiously awaiting their coming, and full of 
pride at the way they had taken and held the Quarries. 

On the right, our gallant Allies had undergone sim- 
ilar experiences, but the splendid rush with wffiich they 
had taken the Mamelpn just before sunset, recalling the 
dash of a pack of hounds into cover, had not been sus- 
tained. Carried away by their impetuosity, the victori- 
ous French chased their beaten foes to the very glacis 
of the Malakoff, but there they encountered the Rus- 


64 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


sian reserves and were in their turn not only hunted 
back to the Mamelon, but through it, and so lost the 
work they had so gallantly won. General Bosquet, 
who was in charge of the attack, was, however, not 
quite the man to put up with such a failure as this. 
He hurled two brigades at once against the recaptured 
Mamelon, and after a brief but sanguinary struggle 
the French regained possession of the Lunette, though, 
take it all in all, at a fearful sacrifice of life. 


CHAPTER VII. 


MISS smerdon’s pride breaks down. 

A well-known novelist who has not long since left us, 
ascribed the rather moderate success of one of his earlier 
stories to the Crimean war. It was the first time the 
British had been engaged in a European struggle of 
this sort since the invention of steam, telegraphs, and, 
if I may be pardoned the expression, newspaper cor- 
respondents. Then again, the great battle between Rus- 
sia and the Allies was practically fought out in a cock- 
pit, and the famous correspondent of the Tunes^ then in 
the hey-day of his youth, was enabled to keep that paper 
supplied with such an accurate, I may almost say mi- 
croscopic, account of the great siege, as made it easy for 
those at home to follow it in all its details. It might 
have been headed, after the manner of these times, 
The Crimea Day by Day. ” It was close upon a twelve- 
month from the time the Western powers first sat down 
in front of the place, before the Muscovite, after glori- 
ously half-repulsing an assault all along the line, suc- 
cumbed to his assailants. Small wonder that those who 
were there from first to last compared it to the siege of 
Troy. One thing it proved conclusively, which was 
that, like Sebastopol, Troy was only half invested, or 
starvation must have compelled its capitulation long 
before ten years. 

That several of his brother officers should gather round 
5 65 


66 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Hugh on his arrival in camp was but natural. They 
were all anxious to hear his account of the last night’s 
fighting — -how poor Grogan came by his death, and 
so on. 

“No doubt you’re pretty well played out, old man; 
but beyond that you took the Quarries with a rush, and 
have been fighting for them all night, we know noth- 
ing. Whether the wounded fellows could tell us any- 
thing we don’t know; the doctor wont allow them to 
talk just yet, he is so afraid of fever. Byng might, no 
doubt, if they’d let him.” 

“Tom Byng?” ejaculated Fleming, “why, he’s dead. 
Shot through the head.” 

“Not a bit of it,” exclaimed two or three voices at 
once. 

“ Why, I saw him carried away myself. ” 

“Not a bit of it,” rejoined the others. “It was a 
mighty close shave, but Tom Byng is no more dead than 
you are. He was stunned, and was a good while com- 
ing to, but has escaped, the doctor says, by about an 
eighth of an inch. ” 

“Thank God!” said Fleming. “I’m sure I thought 
he was killed. How about the others?” 

“ Badly wounded, all three of them ; still the doctor 
says if he can only keep the fever within bounds they 
will all pull through. Poor Loyce must lose his arm. 
You’re not touched, Hugh, are you?” 

“No; but I’ll tell you what, — I’m just froze for a- 
drink, a wash, and a sleep.” 

“ All right, old man, we’ll bother you no more. Bus- 
tle off to your tent and we’ll see nobody disturbs you. 
We were all turned out and kept under arms for two or 
three hours in case you wanted us down there,” and 


MISS smerdon's pride breaks down. 67 

the speaker jerked his thumb in the direction of 
Sebastopol. 

After the excitement and fatigue of the night Flem- 
ing slept soundly for some hours. He had rapidly 
adopted the habits of the old campaigner, who thor- 
oughly understands that sleep is a thing to take when 
you can get it. It sometimes happened that men only 
came out of the trenches to be marched back again be- 
fore they could get their belts off, in consequence of a 
sudden alarm. The contending armies were like two 
gladiators, ever keeping a keen eye for an opening, and, 
notably on the side of the Russians, taking speedy ad- 
vantage of it. 

Fleming was awakened by a roar of laughter just 
outside his tent, and hastily putting on a few things, 
stepped outside and found a small knot of his brother 
officers gathered round Tom Byng, who, seated in an 
easy chair, with a bandaged head, and propped up by 
pillows, had apparently finished the narration of some 
story which had thoroughly tickled his audience. He 
silently extended his hand to Fleming as he came 
forward, and as Hugh clasped it, he said : 

“ Thank God! I was afraid it was all over with you.'* 

Byng gave a queer smile, and rejoined with a slight 
motion of his head : 

Natural density saved me, old fellow. I’m all right, 
but have rather an earthquaky feeling to-day.” 

“ What’s the joke,” continued Fleming, as he warmly 
pressed his friend^s hand. I was roused from my 
slumbers by ribald laughter.” 

‘‘Tell him, some of you,” said Byng. 

“Well, it’s all Mickey Flinn. Seeing Tom outside 
his tent he came across to congratulate his captain for 


68 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


not being kilt dead intirely, and Tom was unwise 
enough to chaff him. 

“ ‘ Last night was worse than the Woronzoff, eh, Flinn, ’ 
said Tom. 

“‘’Deed, sorr, and it was, and it’s glad I am to see 
your honor about again, for it’s kilt dead entirely I 
feared you was when I put you on the stretcher. ’ 

“ ‘Ah, being shot through the head is worse than being 
shot through the body. ’ 

“ ‘Deed I don’t know, sorr; it’s much of a muchness, 
it sthrikes me ; only you get the credit of being wounded 
for the one and you don’t for the other!’ and with that 
Mickey Flinn saluted and stalked back to his company 
in supreme dudgeon.” 

“ It’s all the old villain came to see me about,” said 
Byng, still laughing at the recollection. “ I believe he 
was glad I wasn’t killed; but he’s very angry because I 
have been returned as wounded and he wasn’t.” 

“ Yes,” laughed the adjutant, who was one of the 
group; “that’s a good healthy grievance that ought to 
be a comfort to Flinn, whenever the rations run short, 
to the end of the campaign. He’s a fine old soldier; 
but as we all know, you may trust the old soldier to 
have his grievance.” 

“Yes,” said Fleming, “he’ll go through any amount 
of hardship, hard work, and fighting ; but he must have 
his grievance — generally about the veriest trifle.” 

And then there suddenly arose a shout from the orderly 
room tent of ‘' Mail in from England!” followed by the 
sharp bugle call for orderly sergeants, and the group of 
officers, with Fleming among them, rushed off to see 
after their letters. 

“Yes,” thought Tom Byng as he looked after Flem- 


MISS smerdon’s pride breaks down. 69 

ing: ‘‘I counselled him not to speak, but he has the 
best of it now. Letters from home! Ye^ we’re all 
glad to get them — ah, very glad, no doubt, most of us; 
but don’t tell me Hugh wouldn’t give up all his letters 
from home, and the whole correspondence of the regi- 
ment to boot, for that one letter he’s expecting from 
Nell Lynden ! I hope the young un’ll come through all 
safe ; and after last night it does seem as if Providence 
was watching especially over him. I fancy he was right 
not to take my advice.” And if one might judge from 
Hugh’s face, as he passed a few minutes later with 
an open letter in his hand, Byng was right in his 
conclusion. 

Few things could have been more harassing to a ro- 
mantic and an imaginative young woman of those days 
than to discover that she had let her heart go out of 
her keeping before she was aware of it — to be uncertain 
whether her feelings were reciprocated or not ; and that 
the man who had won her affections should sail for the 
East without making any avowal was hard. 

Frances Smerdon was in this position, and all Nell 
Lynden ’s burst of girlish confidences about her love 
dream were gall and wormwood to her friend. De- 
testable gush,” Frances Smerdon called it, and revenged 
herself by saying the most spiteful things of the regi- 
ment collectively, things intended to be repeated for 
the benefit of the one individual who was the object of 
both her love and her hate. But when, with the spring- 
time, came the news that the fighting had begun again, 
and also that the regiment had reached the Crimea, 
Frances Smerdon’s heart began to quail and soften. 
She could not speak bitterly of men she had known well 
but such a short time ago, and the finish of whose lives 


70 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


she mig-ht see announced in any morning paper. There 
was one man she hated ; there was one man she declared 
she would never speak to again. He could not have 
been blind to her love. He must have despised it. She 
would never, never, never — and then this inconsistent 
young lady would burst into a flood of tears, and only 
wish she could write a long letter to him. 

“ If he had only given me some excuse before he left,” 
she moaned; ‘^but I suppose even if he were seriously 
wounded it would be an awful thing for me to write to 
him. As for Nell, I could box her ears, I could, for 
gushing to me about her love when she knows I’m so 
unhappy.” 

Now this was exactly what Miss Lynden did not 
know. Her own love affair had probably prevented her 
noticing her friend’s weakness, though women seldom 
succeed in keeping each other in the dark on such points. 
Men as a rule are slow to recognize a leaning in their 
favor. It might be that ; but, whether from policy or 
from a mistaken estimate of his chances, Tom Byng 
sailed for the East without uttering a word to Frances 
Smerdon that could be construed into anything more 
than admiration. But what did puzzzle Miss Lynden 
much was the change that had come over her friend. 
It was the one girlish friendship, remember, she had 
ever made, and that Frances should not sympathize and 
rejoice with her in the flood-tide of her first love grieved 
the girl sorely. She so craved for a woman’s sympathy 
in her passionate dream — for some one to talk with of 
her hopes, of her fears. And women had many of 
those latter to battle with in love born during such 
troublous times. 

She could not understand it. Frances seemed to have 


MISS smerdon's pride breaks down. 71 

changed completely. She was witty and sarcastic about 
things generally ; she laughed at Nell about her spoon- 
ishness ” ; told her she could not hope to keep her soldier, 
wrapped in cotton wool when shot and shell were flying 
about; and that she needn’t be afraid — it was a peace- 
ful regiment, and all would be over before they got 
there. Angry though they made her, Nell felt that 
there was a hardness and bitterness in Frances’s letters 
that had no genuine ring in it ; and then, much to her 
amazement. Miss Smerdon’s letters suddenly com- 
pletely altered in tone, and her inquiries after the — th 
became both courteous and pressing. 

As we know, whether the man she loves is in danger 
or is merely passing a lively winter in a pleasant place, 
makes a good deal of difference in the expression of a 
woman’s sentiments under Miss Smerdon’s peculiar 
circumstances. 

The camp was rich in “ shaves” that bright spring 
weather. Men seemed to have shaken off the torpidity 
of the winter, both mentally and bodily, and wondrous 
were the rumors of what the French were doing, and 
what the English were going to do, and even what the 
Russians might be expected to do. Men began to move 
about amongst the lines ; the half-starved ponies, that 
had passed the winter in painfully toiling with such lux- 
uries as their masters could lay hold of between Bala- 
klava and the front, waxed fat in the ribs and sleek in 
the coat. 

Barley was plentiful, and they no longer stood shiv- 
ering at their picket pegs with their quarters turned to 
the cold blast of the Steppes. Enterprising sutlers 
erected stores on the way to the front, and sweet 
champagne, dubious brandy, and all descriptions of 


72 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


tinned delicacies became plentiful, and were to be had 
on comparatively reasonable terms. 

A few days after the taking- of the Quarries a group of 
officers might have been seen lounging on the Woron- 
zoff road just at the point where three or four tracks 
— it would have been absurd to describe them as anything 
more — branched off the main road in various directions 
across the Plateau. Take the one to the bright, and an 
hour or two’s easy riding would bring you amongst the 
famous caves of Inkerman, and eventuate in your cer- 
tainly getting .inside Sebastopol before morning — as a 
prisoner. The laughing knot of officers were of all 
branches of the service, but there were a good many of 
the ■ — th among them. A fresh regiment had arrived at 
Balaklava that morning and was to march up to the 
front that afternoon. 

The regiment in question was what is termed a sister 
corps of the — th, which, being interpreted, means that 
the two corps had been quartered together, or as the 
soldiers term it, had ‘‘lain together” in several places, 
and that the officers and men had cordially fraternized 
and knew each other well. The men as a rule showed 
their gratification at meeting by being slightly the 
worse for liquor, late for tattoo, and exchanging forage 
caps — than which latter mysterious ceremony none is 
so significant of friendship and goodwill in the eyes of 
the British soldier. The officers usually celebrated 
their reunion by an interchange of dinners, in which 
they would sing the old songs, prolonging the festivities 
far into the night. Moreover, as it was known that the 
same regiment had a draft of the — th attached to 
it, the latter had sent their drums and fifes to meet the 


MISS smerdon’s pride breaks down. 


73 


new-comers at this point in the road, from thence to 
play them into camp. 

“ Not much of a band, you know, said Hugh Flem- 
ing. “All we can say is, it’s the best we have out here. 
Hang it, I never properly appreciated a drum and fife 
before.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” exclaimed the adjutant, “a lit- 
tle music does brighten one up here a good deal. On 
my word, I wouldn’t despise a decent barrel organ.” 

“That’s where the French have one pull over us,” 
said an officer of artillery, “ they’ve managed to bring 
their bands out with them. By the way, I was down 
in your conquest last night, Fleming.” 

“My conquest, indeed!” laughed Hugh “I was un- 
common glad to get out of it, that’s all I know. I hope 
you didn’t find the Russians quite so touchy about it as 
I did.” 

“ No, they’re quiet enough over it now. We should 
like to get guns into it, but the ground’s so confoundedly 
rocky I can’t see how the engineers are ever to make 
the sap.” 

“Listen!” cried the adjutant, “here they come, and 
playing our own quickstep, ‘Warwickshire Lads,’ as a 
greeting. Now fall in you drums and fifes, and as soon 
as you catch sight of the head of the regiment strike up 
their own march, ‘ Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue ! ’ and, 
confound you, roll it out as if you were trying to crack 
the fifes and burst the sheepskins!” 

Another minute, and the head of the new regiment 
appeared in sight. Then the drummers and buglers of 
the — th crashed out their welcome to the new-comers 
whose own music at once ceased. Cordial hand-grips 
and inquiries passed amongst the officers of the two corps, 


74 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


for it was not two months ago since the new-comers had 
played the — th down the Steppes of Valetta. At this 
point the draft of the — th branched off to the left, 
in the direction of the lines of their own corps, and with 
them rode the adjutant and Hugh Fleming. On their 
arrival this batch of only just drilled recruits was at 
once paraded and the men told off to their respective 
companies. 

Hugh Fleming looked carelessly on while the adju- 
tant allotted a few to his own company. The sergeant 
was marching these off when the sound of his own name 
made him turn abruptly. 

“Here’s one recruit, sir,” said the sergeant, “says 
he’s got a bit of a note for you.” 

“A note for me!” ejaculated Hugh. “ How did you 
get it, and what’s your name, my lad?” 

“Peter Phybbs, sir,” replied the boy. He was little 
more than eighteen. “ My sister got it for me when 
she heard what regiment I’d ’listed in, and said I was 
to be sure and give it to you as soon as I had the 
chance.” 

Hugh threw one glance at the superscription of the 
rather crumpled missive the recruit had placed in his 
hands, and instantly recognized Nell Lynden’s well- 
known writing. He at once tore it open. 

“Dearest Hugh: — The young brother of Phybbs, our 
parlor-maid, has, it seems, enlisted in your regiment. 
The girl’s in a sad taking about it, in which, alas, I can 
only too fully sympathize. She seems to think, poor 
thing, that your powers to protect him out there are 
boundless, and to soothe her I write this to ask you to 
look after him a bit if he gets sick or in trouble. I 
know you will, Hugh, dear, if it’s only for my sake; 
but I also like to think that it is another link between 


MISS smerdon’s pride breaks down. 


75 


us; that while his sister is watching and waiting by my 
side here, he is fighting by your side there. I have 
never seen him, but he sounds a mere boy to be sent 
out on such work. God bless and save you, my darling. 

“ Ever your own, 

Nell.’' 

“Well, Phybbs,” said Hugh, “ I’m asked to look after 
you a bit, and you may thoroughly depend upon me as 
long as you deserve it. Keep straight, my lad, don’t 
flinch from your work, and be easy with the drink, and 
that’s all I have to say to you at present. See the old 
hands aren’t too hard upon him, Smithers,” and with 
that Hugh turned on his heel and walked off to his tent. 

“A queer letter of introduction,” he said to himself, 
with a smile, “but I must do the best I can for Nell’s 
protege^ simply because he is her protegL"' He little 
thought those few lines of recommendation were to prove 
of more value to him ere long than any letter to 
the commander-in-chief from the highest in the land 
could be. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 

Miss Smerdon has been making herself as unpleasant 
as it is possible for a vivacious young lady to do when 
matters are running askew with her, and that, need- 
less to say, means that Twmbarlyn House is rendered 
generally uncomfortable for all therein. 

“What’s come to the girl?” demanded Mr. Smerdon, 
petulantly, of his wife. “ She used to be the life and 
sunshine of the place, and now she just mopes and snaps 
like a puppy with distemper.” 

“I don’t know,” returned Mrs. Smerdon anxiously; 
“she wont tell me; but there’s something that worries 
and frets her. She’s never beeti the same girl since 
her last visit to Manchester.” 

The good lady did not think fit to confide her thoughts 
to her husband ; but she was not blinded. She strongly 
suspected that her daughter had brought a heartache 
home with her. The very servants wondered what had 
come to Miss Frances, and said that there really was 
no pleasing her. 

One morning. Miss Smerdon hastil}" caught up the 
paper, as she usually did. She was feverishly anxious 
to see it nowadays, though formerly the perusal of the 
Times had been either neglected or left for an idle half- 
hour. She was so interested, she said, in the doings of 
our soldiers in the Crimea. All this, though unnoticed 

76 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 


77 


by her father, was easy reading for a mother’s eye. She 
could not induce the girl to give her her confidence, but 
Mrs. Smerdon had little doubt that Frances’s heart was 
in a soldier’s keeping. If she had thought that before, 
she knew it for certain that morning. No sooner had 
the girl torn open the paper than the head-lines, ‘‘ Brill- 
iant Exploit ; the Taking of the Quarries ; Severe Fight- 
ing,” caught her eye, and then came a glowing and 
graphic description of the position, of the dashing ma * 
ner it had been carried, followed by a spirit-stirrii 
narrative of the gallant and obstinate endeavors of tl 
Russians to recapture it during the night, and speakir 
in terms of unqualified praise of the bull-dog tenaci^j. 
with which the — -th clung to the vantage-ground they 
had won. 

Frances’s color came and went as she read; at length 
she came to the postscript of all glorious bulletins. 
‘‘ We regret to say that in the execution of this brilliant 
and successful operation Her Majesty’s — th suffered 
severely, having no less than five out of the six officers 
engaged in it hors de combat. The subjoined list is a re- 
turn of the killed and wounded on the occasion. 

“Killed: Lieut. -Colonel Croker (commanding the at- 
tack) ; Captain Grogan, — th Regiment. 

“ Wounded: Captain Byng, — th Regiment (severely).” 

The paper dropped from her hand and the blood left 
her cheeks. Frances turned white to her very lips, 
and a slight moan escaped her. Her head swam, and 
it was only by a supreme effort she saved herself from 
fainting. Her mother was by her side in an instant, 
while her father looked up from his letters with open- 

eyed astonishment, and exclaimed, “Good ! what’s 

the matter?” 


78 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“Nothing, Matthew; don’t take any notice of her, 
she will be all right directly,” rejoined his wife sharply 
“She’s only a little faint; she has been out of sorts 
lately, you know.” 

“I think, mamma, I’ll go and lie down; I don’t feel 
very well,” murmured Frances, and assisted by her 
mother she left the room and made her way to her 
own bed-chamber. Arrived there, she broke fairly 
down, burst into tears, and sobbed like a child on her 
mother’s breast. 

Mrs. Smerdon knew that this was no time for ques- 
tioning. She let the girl weep passionately on her 
bosom for some minutes, knowing full well that she 
would have all her confidence a little later. Then she 
loosened her dress, made her lie down on the bed, and 
said, “You can’t sleep, I know, Frances; but try and lie 
quiet, dear, for half an hour. I will come back and 
bring you some tea then, and you shall tell me all your 
trouble. Who should you come to, child, in your sor- 
row save to the mother who bore you?” And before an 
hour was over Mrs. Smerdon knew that her daughter 
had given her heart away unwooed, and was tortured 
with shame and anguish because it was so, and that the 
author of all this mischief was now lying in grievous 
case in camp before Sebastopol. 

We know that Tom Byng was in no such plight, but 
he had been carried away from the Quarries for dead 
in the first instance, and had actually figured as such 
in the first returns of casualties. Luckily, the mistake 
was discovered in time, and “ severely wounded ” was 
substituted for killed. Sanguine though the doctors 
were about his hurt being of no great consequence, yet 
they were a little chary of speaking decisively about it 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 79 

for a few days, and hesitated to describe as slight ” a 
wound which might even yet take a serious turn. 

It might have been some satisfaction to Mickey 
Flinn had he . understood that Captain Byng had no 
knowledge of how he was returned in that night’s 
casualties. 

Severely wounded!” thought Frances when left to 
herself. Ah ! how often had that word been the pre- 
cursor of died of his wounds,” of late. She had heard 
it said that the wretched accommodation of the field 
hospitals gave littld chance of recovery to those once 
admitted into them. Oh, if she could but go out to 
nurse him ! But that was impossible. If she could but 
write to him ! But no ; he had never spoken — he had 
given her no right to do that. And yet in her heart of 
hearts she believed that he loved her. Oh, she had 
been mad ! She had been rightly punished ! She had 
jeered at the regiment— sneered at him; and no doubt 
Nell had told Hugh Fleming, as she intended Nell 
should, and so all her bitter words had come round to 
his ears. How could she have been so wicked and so 
spiteful? How was he to ever know that such words 
escaped her lips in the agony of what she believed to be 
her rejected love. 

No! she must go away. She could not stay at Twm- 
barlyn, for everybody, she felt sure, would read her 
secret in her face. She would go to the Lyndens. She 
hungered to hear all about the old lot, to talk of Hugh 
Fleming, of Tom; and her face flushed even as her lips 
syllabled the name. She would hear, too, what his 
hurt was, whether it was likely to go very hard with 
him. If Nellie would have her, she would go to Man- 
chester at once, She would write by that day’s post; 


8o 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


and then the return of her mother cut short the thread 
of her meditations. 

As she had anticipated, Mrs. Smerdon found herself 
speedily taken into her daughter’s confidence, after which 
she not only soothed the girl, but proceeded, metaphor- 
ically, to bind up her wounds forthwith. The Smerdons 
were good, homely, self-made people, and neither of 
them eniertained any extreme ambitions for either 
their sons or their daughter. Smerdon had attained 
wealth, and with it such ascent in social status as 
is its inevitable accompaniment. So long as Frances 
married a gentleman of fair repute, she was free 
to choose where she listed, and Mrs. Smerdon knew 
very well that had any of the officers from New- 
port, who so constantly dined with them, taken the 
girl’s fancy, her father would have made no ob- 
jection. As for Captain Byng, he had always been a 
great favorite with the good lady, although she had never 
dreamed he had found favor in her daughter’s eyes. 
But this was very easily accounted for. Though Fran- 
ces had always liked Captain Byng, it was not until her 
sojourn at Manchester with the Lyndens that the liking 
had ripened into a serious attachment. There is love 
at first sight, no doubt, but the passion, is more gener- 
ally, I fancy, of a slower growth. Again, as Tom had 
observed, soldiers were ‘‘up in the market” just then; 
and on my conscience I believe people fall in love very 
often for the sole reason that they ought not to do so. 

Mrs. Smerdon comforted the girl very much. She 
made light of the difficulties of the situation. “ If,” she 
thought, “ Frances has set her heart on Captain Byng, 
and he likes her, there is no earthly reason why she 
shouldn’t marry him — let him only get safely through 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 


8l 


this horrid war — and he will make her a very suitable 
husband.” In her mother’s partiality she looked upon 
Frances as a good match for any man. No, she saw no 
reason wl]atever why Frances shouldn’t write to Cap- 
tain Byng. 

‘‘You knew him very well, and there’s nothing out 
of the way in your writing to inquire after him, having 
seen his mishap in the papers. Still, if you wish it — 
which you don’t — ” and the elder lady laughed merrily. 

“Thanks, no, mamma; I’ll write to him myself.” 

“Quite so,” replied Mrs. Smerdon, nodding. “And 
now, my dear, hope for the best. It’s no use thinking 
that just because people are ill they are never going to 
get over it. As for your going up to stay with Nellie, 
I certainly think that’s advisable. Change will do you 
good. You will have an inexhaustible topic between 
you, and she will be able to give you small details about 
their daily lives out there, interesting to any one, but 
especially to those who know, much more care for, the 
actors in the drama.” Frances’s face flushed a little at 
her mother’s allusion to her weakness, but she had de- 
rived much consolation from her counsel and sympathy, 
and from the thought that Mrs. Smerdon saw no cause 
why she should not write to Captain Byng. 

In the course of that afternoon she despatched a letter 
to Miss Lynden, in which she recanted all the bitter 
things she had ever said about the regiment, called her- 
self a little beast for having even thought such things, 
pleaded that she was'very miserable, begged that she 
might come to her, said she had so much to say to her, 
and pledged herself to be on her very best behavior 
during her visit. If Miss Lynden had been blind to 
Frances’s feelings in the first instance, she could read 
6 


82 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


between the lines of her present letter, thanks to Hugh 
Fleming. Tom Byng was a very transparent man, and, 
sharpened, perhaps, by his own experiences, Hugh had 
no difficulty in penetrating his friend’s secret before 
they had set foot in the Crimea. 

When they’d got this town taken and the war finished 
up, he thought his friend would have no cause for de- 
spair if he asked the momentous question. Meanwhile 
the town took a deal of taking, and seemed quite as well 
supplied with provisions and munitions of war as its 
assailants. 

Miss Lynden’s answer came by return of post. Thanks 
to Hugh’s hints she was now able to account for the 
fiuctuations in Frances’s correspondence which had so 
much puzzled her. She knew very well what that long 
talk would be about, and it was very sweet to the girl 
to think that at last she would have some one with 
whom she might talk unrestrainedly about her love. 

As far as the doings in the Crimea went, no man could 
follow the proceedings of the Allies with closer interest 
than Doctor Lynden. But though aware of the engage- 
ment between Fleming and his daughter, he totally 
eschewed all discussion of that subject. He had some 
grounds for doing so ; it certainly could not be said that 
Hugh’s family had welcomed the intelligence with 
effusion. To tell the truth, old Mr. Fleming was furious 
at the announcement, and only restrained from ful- 
minating his wrath in all directions by the circumstances 
of the case. “ Nothing can take place at present 
between them but an exchange of ridiculous love- 
letters. Time very often dispels these illusions. Besides, 
if anything should happen to the boy, I should be very 
sorry to think that angry words had passed between us ; 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 


83 


and Master Hugh has a considerable touch of my tem- 
per about him. If he persists in his obstinacy and folly 
when this affair is all over, it will be quite time to let 
him know my mind thoroughly about such a preposter- 
ous arrangement!” And then, with sundry incoherent 
remarks, in which “young idiot,” “retired doctors of 
unknown families,” “impertinence,” and strong exple- 
tives were all mixed, Mr. Fleming senior determined to 
say no more on the subject at present, but to fall back 
on a policy much in vogue just then — of “masterly 
inactivity.” 

“ Oh, Nell! can you forgive me?” said Frances, when, 
her journey accomplished, she found herself once more 
safe in the Lyndens’ drawing-room, with her friend 
ministering to her requirements in the shape of tea. 
“ Fve said horrid things of Hugh and the dear old regi- 
ment, I know. I could bite my tongue out for doing so 
now ; but I was so miserable. I have tried so hard to 
forget him, but I can’t; and now he’s wounded — badly 
wounded — but I forgot, you don’t know, and, oh, how 
am I to tell you?” 

“Oh, yes, my dear,” replied Nell, with a smile, “ I 
fancy I do know — know perhaps even more than you do ; 
and a pretty scolding there will be for Captain Byng 
next time we meet.” 

“ Is it very serious?” asked Frances, eagerly. “ How 
is he going on? Do they think he will get over it? 
What does Hugh say?” 

“ Hush! one question at a time,” rejoined Miss-Lyn- 
den. “ We must wait for the next mail to come in. I 
had only one line from Hugh this time. Here it is, ” 
and the girl took the scrap of a letter from the bosom 
of her dress, and read as follows : 


84 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


‘‘My Darling Nell: — Just one line to say that I am 
all right; but we had a big fight last night in the 
trenches, and you will be sorry to hear that several of 
your old acquaintances were knocked over. Poor Gro- 
gan, indeed, killed. I’m so dead beat I can’t write any 
more. 

“Ever, dearest, your own Hugh.” 

“ That is all, Frances, so you see we must wait till the 
next mail for further tidings. I’m sure to hear again 
then. Hugh is very good about writing, though some- 
times I get only such a scrap as this.” 

“ It’s terrible, this watching and waiting,” cried Miss 
Smerdon. “ It must be hard for you to bear ; but, ah ! 
Nell, how much happier you are than I am. What 
wouldn’t I give for just two lines like that!” and as she 
spoke she looked wistfully at the letter her friend held 
between her fingers. “ Ah, if he had only given me the 
right to care for him.” 

“Listen, Frances,” replied Miss Lynden; “didn’t I 
tell you that I had something to scold Captain Byng 
for. If his advice had been followed I should have been 
exactly in your place, and Hugh would not have told his 
love before he left. You’re a proud girl, and Captain 
Byng’s a quixotic man. As if a man’s love story ever 
offended a woman, even when she didn’t care for 
him.” 

“Ah, my pride is all broken down now, ’’replied Miss 
Smerdon, in dejected tones. “ He must never know it. 
He would laugh at me, very probably, if he did. It’s 
very disgraceful, Nell, but I do love him. You never 
told Hugh any of my wicked remarks, did you?” 

“Well, do you know,” faltered Miss Lynden, “do 
you know I’m afraid I did.” 


NEWS FROM THE CRIMEA. 


35 


“Oh, Nellie, how cruel of you! How could you?” 
exclaimed Miss Smerdon with flushed cheeks, starting 
bolt upright from the desponding attitude she had 
assumed in a corner of the sofa. “ You know I never 
meant them.” 

“ I knew they were meant more for somebody else's 
ears than mine,” remarked the other demurely, “ and I 
took care they got there. ” 

“ How mean of you ! How wicked of you ! What a 
wretch Tom — Captain Byng, I mean — must think of me ! 
And now he’s dying — ” and Miss Smerdon sobbed 
audibly. 

“Don’t be a fool, Frances!” interposed Miss Lynden 
a little sharply. “ I quoted your tart remarks in my 
letters to Hugh simply because the fluctuations of your 
temper puzzled me. I could not understand it. It was 
well I did so, or I should not have understood things 
even now. Hugh, you see, was behind the scenes the 
other side, and when we compared notes we came to the 
conclusion that Benedick had gone to the wars once 
more, and that Beatrice had promised to eat all of his 
killing. My dear, when next you meet Captain Byng 
I have no doubt you’ll find he has something to say to 
you.” 

“Oh, Nell, do you really think so? Do you think 
he—” 

“ Loves you?” said Miss Lynden, laughing. “No, I 
don’t; but Hugh does, and that’s a good deal more to 
the purpose. He’s wiser than I am, and has much bet- 
ter opportunities than mine of judging of Captain Byng’s 
feelings. Soyez tranqinlle^ my dear, and wait and hope 
trustfully for good tidings by the next mail.” 

Oh, the humility and self-deception of a great love ! 


S6 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Here is quick, clever Nellie Lynden not only saying 
that honest, straightforward Hugh Fleming is wiser 
than she, but that he possesses a quicker insight into the 
state of the affections ! As if on this latter point the 
perceptions of man are not as those of the mole com- 
pared to the eagle with the observations of the oppo- 
site sex. 


CHAPTER IX. 


CONSTABLE TARRANT IS PUZZLED. 

Police Constable Richard Tarrant is somewhat 
disconcerted at having as yet failed to. verify his con- 
clusions. He had drawn a more prosaic deduction that 
Miss Smerdon concerning the mysterious employment 
practised by Dr. Lynden in his den. When on duty, 
his beat really brought him within the vicinity of the 
doctor’s house; but he spent many a sleepless night 
which his obligations to the force did not impose upon 
him in watching that sidedoor of the doctor’s. We 
know what he supposed the rather retiring portal would 
open to admit ; but, with all his vigilance, he was fain 
to acknowledge that, watch as he might, he had seen 
neither living nor dead bodies pass its threshold. Had 
he confided his suspicions to Polly Phybbs, that young 
lady, after she had got over the first shock of such an 
accusation against the' doctor, would have ridiculed the 
bare idea of such a thing. What the doctor might do 
in the laboratory she did not know, but she would have 
been quite certain that it could be nothing of the kind 
that Dick Tarrant suspected. Still more certain is it 
that if there had been the faintest grounds for thinking 
such a thing, nothing would ever have induced her to 
enter the room again. She had obeyed her cousin’s 
command to keep her eye upon the doctor; she had 
always done as Dick told her ; and yet even about that 

87 


88 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


she had her compunctions, and only for the foolish be- 
lief she had in Dick’s understanding she would have 
pronounced the proceeding as all nonsense. The doc- 
tor was a kind master, to whom she wished no harm. 
If, as Dick said, he was engaged in something ‘‘ agen 
the law,” well, then, she supposed he deserved to be 
punished; but she did not wish hers should be the 
hand to bring it about. Her young mistress, too, she 
held in the highest esteem ; and then had she not just 
written that letter to Mr. Fleming in the Crimea? Polly 
Phybbs looked upon the aegis of Hugh Fleming’s pro- 
tection as going far to insure the safety of her boyish 
brother. Still she never had refused to do Dick’s bid- 
ding, and she would do it now ; but it was much satis- 
faction to her to find that nothing came of it. 

What had induced the doctor to make that mysterious 
addition to his house? It would have hardly attracted 
the curiosity of any one but such an addle-headed man 
as Dick Tarrant. His main idea was that advancement 
in the police was most easily procured by some startling 
discovery of crime. More than one had taken place 
since he had been in the force, but Dick argued that he 
never had any luck. Let him only get a chance, and 
they would see what was in hifn. His superiors be- 
lieved very little, and were not at all likely to intrust 
Constable Tarrant with any delicate investigation. A 
slow thinker, one to whom ideas came but seldom, Dick 
clung strongly to this main belief of his, and also to 
that subsidiary notion that the conviction of the doctor 
was the means by which he was destined to achieve 
greatness. Now, without the slightest disparagement 
of the police, because it is an infirmity of human na- 
ture, there is always a disposition to make evidence 


CONSTABLE TARRANT IS PUZZLED. 


89 


chime in with conviction. Once having settled in onr 
mind who is the author of a murder, we are more dis- 
posed to devote our powers to proving ourselves right in 
that conjecture than to the unbiassed investigation of 
who really committed it. The faculty of cool judicial 
analysis is rare, and it is seldom even the best detective , 
can resist jumping to a conclusion at which he should 
only have arrived step by step. 

That Richard Tarrant was also obstinate it is almost 
needless to state: men of this type always are. Let 
such an one once get a ‘‘maggot’' into his head, and he 
clings to it with a pertinacity that would be beyond all 
praise if it were not wrongheadedness. Dick Tarrant 
was in this plight. He began by suspecting Doctor 
Lynden of vague offences, and must continue to do so 
because he has no one else to suspect. 

It is Sunday afternoon, and in the worst possible 
humor Mr. Tarrant is lounging about the road awaiting 
the advent of Miss Phybbs. He is angry that his vigil- 
ance has resulted in nothing so far. Mr. Tarrant is an 
indolent man, and chafes mightily at nights out of bed, 
which produce no compensating result. That he should 
have been kept waiting is an additional grievance ; and 
moreover he has discovered that Polly is reluctant to 
carry out his orders — in fact, to use his own expression, 
that she isn’t half “keeping an eye on him.” 

“ Now, ” mutters Mr. Tarrant to himself, “ I aint going 
to stand that! Not likely, you know. Never give 
women their heads; that’s my motto. And if Polly, 
thinks she’s not to keep her nose to the grindstone she’s 
very much mistaken. There’s my future career all de- 
pending upon the successful working out of this riddle, 
and she thinks she aint called on to assist. .If she thinks 


90 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


after we are married she’ll have nothing to do but sit 
with her hands in her lap and play at being a fine lady, 
she wont do for me. A man can’t do everything 
himself, and my wife will have to help keep the pot 
boiling. ” 

God help poor Polly Phybbs if she should come to 
wed this man under that delusion! He is of that sort 
for whom women of Polly’s class work their fingers to 
the bone, quite content to keep their lords in indolence 
as long as they neither ill-use nor are false to them. 

Suddenly the side-door of the doctor’s house opened — 
that door which, watch it as he might, he had seldom 
succeeded in seeing used by any one. And out of it, to 
the utter bewilderment of Constable Tarrant, stepped a 
well but quietly dressed lady-like woman. Although 
closely veiled, he felt sure that it was not Miss Lyn- 
den ; he knew the latter perfectly by sight. The doc- 
tor’s visitor was both taller and stouter, much more of 
a woman, and her unexpected appearance so utterly 
upset his previous suspicions concerning the doctor that 
he neglected to do what an ordinarily intelligent officer 
would have done under the circumstances — to wit, 
follow her. 

She apparently did not notice him, but walked 
quickly toward the busy part of the town, while 
Dick first stared vacantly at her and then looked in a 
dazed way at the portal from which she had emerged. 
He was still gazing at this last, when he was startled by 
a voice at his elbow saying : 

“You seem rather interested in that door, my man; 
pray, what is it you see to admire in it?” 

He turned, and to his surprise found the doctor stand- 
ing by his side. 


CONSTABLE TARRANT IS PUZZLED. 9 1 

‘‘How on earth did he come here?” was Dick’s first 
thought, utterly oblivious of the fact that it was easy 
for the doctor to come out of one door while his (Tar- 
rant’s) eyes were fixed on the other. 

“Nothing, sir, nothing!” he replied, confusedly. “I 
was only just thinking — ” 

“Of what?” said the doctor, suavely. 

“ Thinking, sir, thinking — just thinking — about noth- 
ing at all,” concluded Dick desperately disconcerted by 
the keen glance with which the doctor regarded him. 

“ An occupation in which mankind spend a good deal 
of their time,” said the doctor, with a slightly sarcastic 
smile. “ I wish you a good afternoon,” and he walked 
leisurely away in the same direction as that taken by 
the lady. 

“Well, I’m blowed!” remarked Mr. Tarrant, after a 
minute or two. “Here’s a discovery! This is what 
comes of keeping your eye on them.” And here his re- 
flections were interrupted by the appearance of Miss 
Phybbs. 

“Now, Polly,” he exclaimed, after they had shaken 
hands ,“ you’re a nice one, you are, to help an intelli- 
gent officer in the discharge of his duties. Who’s that 
lady that visits the doctor, and as he lets out of the side 
door? You’ve never said anything about her, you 
know. ” ' 

“Lady! What lady? The only ladies that come to 
our house come to visit Miss Lynden, and of course they 
come and go at the' proper door.” 

“Oh, oh!” said Mr. Tarrant, sarcastically; “this is 
what you call keeping an eye on him, is it? If you aint 
got no powers of observation you can’t help it. If you 
can’t see beyond the end of your nose I’m sorry for you; 


92 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


but if you aint altogether a beetle, it’s downright wicked 
idleness, that’s what it is.” 

“Oh, Dick, Dick! what have I done?” cried the girl. 

“ Done !” replied the police constable in high dudgeon, 
“it’s what you aint done I’m complaining of. How 
do you think I’m ever going to get on in my profession 
if you don’t help. ” 

“ I assure you, Dick, I’ve done as you ordered me ; but 
I’ve nothing to tell you. The doctor locks himself into 
the laboratory as usual, and I haven’t been called in to 
tidy it up for a good three weeks. He’s never had a 
lady, nor any other visitor to my knowledge, all the 
time. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

“ Mistaken! not likely,” he replied. “ I suppose you 
was born without gumption and it can’t be helped; but 
just you attend to me.” And then Mr. Tarrant pro- 
ceeded to relate circumstantially how he had seen the 
lady come out of the side door, how her departure had 
been closely followed by the unexpected appearance of 
the doctor at his elbow, and how the latter had then 
walked off in the same direction. 

If Miss Phybbs had been a very faint-hearted coad- 
jutor so far, in the detective business, yet she promised 
to be a very valuable assistant in the future. She 
wisned no harm to the doctor and his family, but her 
womanly curiosity was now thoroughly piqued. There 
was a slight flavor of scandal about Dick’s story which 
was very titillating. Her inquiries concerning the 
lady’s dress were far more minute than her cousin was 
able to satisfy ; and if Dick recognized that this theory 
of the doctor carrying on a private school of anatomy 
was negatived by the appearnace of a lady on the scene. 
Miss Phybbs’s ready brain had already built up another 


CONSTABLE TARRANT IS PUZZLED. 


93 


to take its place, in which, sad to say, a very indifferent 
construction was put upon her master’s character. 

Still, in spite of Mr. Tarrant’s discovery, they were 
in reality not one whit wiser than before. Polly had 
known that men occasionally used that stair for the pur- 
pose of visiting her master’s laboratory. She knew now 
that a woman had also used it for the same purpose, 
and she knew no more. Why they came, or what they 
came about, she and Dick were quite as ignorant of as 
ever. They talked the thing over most exhaustively 
during their walk. And while Miss Phybbs ran over 
the list of ladies who visited the house, endeavoring to 
put her finger upon the one likely to be guilty of such an 
indiscretion as secretly visiting her master, Mr. Tarrant 
arraigned the doctor of every crime in the annals of the 
police — coining, forgery, burglary, etc. — only to reject 
them one by one. At one time he suggested that he 
should at once lay what he persisted in terming his dis- 
covery, before his superiors ; but Miss Phybbs was de- 
cidedly opposed to that. Openly, she argued that it 
was useless, until they had pushed their investigations 
somewhat further, and arrived at something more defi^ 
nite. Inwardly, she believed herself upon the track of 
a domestic scandal which, though eager to get to the 
bottom of, she had no wish should go beyond the family 
circle. And, moreover, she considered it would turn 
out a case with which the police had no concern. So 
when they eventually parted it was agreed between 
them, that their lips should be sealed for the present. 

The next day Constable Tarrant’s duties called him 
to the headquarters of the police in the city, and while 
there, lounging about waiting for orders, he heard some 
of his superiors discussing a communication that they 


94 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


had received from Scotland Yard relative to a consider- 
able quantity of base coin, with which the metropolis 
had suddenly been flooded, and of the fabrication of 
which they had so far failed to find the slightest clue. 
They described the coin as beautifully manufactured 
and all evidently the work of the same hands. “ The 
constructors are passed masters of their craft, and must 
be provided with very superior plant and machinery. 
There are probably two or three employed in the mint- 
ing of it, but the issuing must comprehend a very ex- 
tensive organization. We need scarcely add that to lay 
hold of the principals is of the greatest possible 
importance.’' 

“ I don’t believe we have any one here now on the 
smashing lay. At all events not such artists as these are 
described to be. We may have one or two inferior ones 
about, but they would be in a very small way of business. ” 

‘‘No,” rejoined one of his brother officers, thought- 
fully, “ I don’t think such a lot as they speak of could 
be here without our knowing of it. Not likely but what 
they’d try to pass some of the stuff in a big place like 
this. What little bad money we’ve come across lately 
is of a very inferior manufacture, not calculated to de- 
ceive anybody who looked at it twice.” 

Richard Tarrant sucked all this in greedily. He had 
se.tled in his own mind that Dr. Lynden was offending 
against the laws. If he was not so doing in one way he 
was in another. This was a fact fixed and incontro- 
vertible in Dick Tarrant’s head. If he was not carrying 
on that illegal school of anatomy, then doubtless he was 
manufacturing bad silver by the bushel ; and upon no 
other grounds than these did he once more decide in 
his own mind what was Dr. Lynden’s secret occupation. 


CONSTABLE TARRANT IS PUZZLED. 


95 


But though both he and Polly kept watchful eyes upon 
the side door it was without result. It was a subject of 
much regret to Miss Phybbs that she had not been a 
little more punctual in keeping her appointment that 
afternoon, as she would then probably have caught a 
glimpse of the lady, and veiled though she might have 
been. Miss Phybbs confidently asserted that she would 
have known her again anywhere. To recognize her from 
Dick’s description was, she ruefully admitted, impos- 
sible. 

There is no doubt a pronounced taste in dress offers 
great facilities for identification. The famous Lord 
Brougham is said to have been constant to shepherd’s 
plaid for his nether garments. There are men in Lon- 
don, whose hats we could swear to, and we might con- 
fidently predict their presence in a house as we pass 
their head-gear on the hall table. I can call to mind a 
well-known lady whose taste for bright colors was so 
conspicuous that people at Lord’s and Hurlingham made 
appointments to meet in her vicinity, as a rendezvous, 
that, though movable, could be seen from afar. If only 
this unknown lady had but had a penchant of that 
description! As it was, neither Tarrant nor Polly 
Phybbs saw any probability of coming across the mys- 
terious stranger unless she should again pay the doctor 
a visit. 

But there is something in luck, and when busy one 
morning in the heart of the city on some mission of 
Miss Lynden’s, Polly could hardly withhold a cry of exul • 
tation upon catching sight of her master talking earn- 
estly with a well-dressed woman who she had no doubt 
was the lady they were so anxious to catch sight of. 
She easily contrived to pass them — not too closely, but 


96 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


near enough to obtain a good view of the lady’s face. 
It was one she had never seen before. 

“ She. may visit the master by the side door,” sniffed 
Miss Phybbs, “ but she’s never come in at the front !” and 
her suspicions as to the respectability of the unknown 
became stronger than ever. 

She turned back and repassed them, still contriving 
to remain unnoticed herself, which was all the more 
easy from the slow pace at which they were walking 
and the earnestness of their conversation. Polly felt 
then that there was no fear of her not recognizing the 
stranger in future. 

A tall, well-preserved woman of forty, on a rather 
large scale, with an indolent grace in her movement that 
would have made her a striking figure in any drawing- 
room. She was richly but quietly dressed, and that she 
saw her now for the first time Miss Phybbs was certain, 
though the unknown and the doctor were apparently old 
acquaintances. Polly had neither time nor inclination 
to follow them, but remained satisfied with having suc- 
ceeded in identifying the stranger. She determined on 
her way home to say nothing of her morning’s adven- 
ture to Dick, believing that if she only got to the bot- 
tom of it it would turn out to be a petty scandal, which 
was no concern of the police. 


CHAPTER X. 


MRS. SEACOLE’S. 

It’s eight o’clock, and the Crimean mail’s in; and 
please, miss, Miss Nellie said I was to tell you that 
all’s well,” exclaimed Polly, volubly, as she drew back 
the curtains and threw up the blind of Miss Smerdon’s 
room one bright May morning. 

“The mail in!” cried Frances, as she bounded out of 
bed, plunged into her dressing-gown, and dashed off 
to Nell’s room to pick up such crumbs of comfort as 
that young sybarite might choose to drop from the snug 
depths of her couch. Perhaps at twenty, when thor- 
oughly in earnest, to lie in bed and read love-letters is 
as entrancing an occupation as a maiden need hope for. 

“Captain Byng is all safe,” said Miss Lynden; “the 
return was all a mistake. Hugh says he had the closest 
possible shave of being killed, and they thought at first 
he was so. He was stunned with a bullet, but is really 
only very slightly wounded, and is doing well.” 

“ Thank God!” said Frances. “ I almost wish now I 
hadn’t written to him.” 

“Oh, Frances, Frances!” rejoined Miss Lynden, 
laughing, “you’re a little the oldest, and I used to 
think a good deal the wisest, but oh, my dear, you’re 
a sad goose ! Here you are in love with a man, and 
believe in your heart that he’s in love with you, and 
just because he hadn’t got the pluck to speak up before 
7 97 


98 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


he left England you regret that you’ve written him a 
very proper letter to inquire after him on seeing that he 
was severely wounded. A very proper letter I dare 
swear it was. I shouldn’t wonder if it began, ^ Miss 
Smerdon presents her compliments to Captain Byng, 
and begs to inquire — ’” 

“ Stop, oh stop, you tease! It wasn’t a proper letter, 
and that’s the reason.” 

“ Oh, never mind the reason. I know all about that. 
I ought to be shocked; but I’m only very glad. You 
were a sensible girl.” 

Now tell me what Hugh says — at least as much as 
may reach the public ear.” 

“ Thank heaven he’s safe. Tiresome boy, he says so 
little about that terrible night, and I do feel so proud 
of him. His letter’s full of nothing but dog hunting, 
divisional races, and all that sort of thing. I’m sure to 
read it. The Crimea seems to be a most lovely climate, 
and they’re all having the greatest possible fun out 
there. It’s hard to realize from his letter that they are 
actually fighting, and that men are being killed day 
and night. But now run away. I must really get up 
and dress. I will read you all the gossip of my letter 
at breakfast; at present I’ve hardly read it my- 
self.” 

Frances Smerdon walked off to her own room echoing 
her friend’s reflections. 

‘‘Yes,” she murmured “that’s just what the best of 
them do, when the work is serious; they make light of 
it and also of any grief that may come to them. There 
was poor Algie Barnard, at Cowbridge, last year, they 
said he threw the steeplechase away by his bad riding. 
He made no reply, but fainted in the weighing-room. 


MRS. SEACOLE'S. 


99 


Then they found he had broken two ribs, and that the 
muscles of his right arm had been laid open in a fall 
he’d got on the far side of the course! Tom makes 
light of it; but I’ve very little doubt his wound is seri- 
ous.” And then Miss Smerdon proceeded to dress, and 
to rack her memory in the mean time for every record 
in which injuries to the head had terminated fatally. 
As her experiences in that way were principally con- 
nected with the hunting-field, by the time she had re- 
membered two concussions of the brain, one case of 
paralysis, and another of permanent affection of the 
spine, she had brought herself to a very low and con- 
trite spirit with which to join the breakfast-table. Could 
she but have seen the object of her solicitude in the 
course of that day, I think she would have almost 
grieved to think so much womanly pity had been 
wasted upon him. 

If a Crimean winter can be as hard and disagreeable 
as an English one — and with the exception of one par- 
ticular (in the matter of fogs) it can quite match it — the 
country rejoices in one glorious superiority as regards 
climate. Winter does not linger there all through 
the spring and half-way through the summer as it does 
in England ; but once got done with, it breaks into gen- 
uine spring. Not such a conglomeration of wet and 
bitter east winds as usually signalizes the advent of 
that season in England, but bright skies, balmy breezes, 
and all the delights that the poets sing of — and which 
English people so- rarely witness. It cannot be said 
that many flowers came with the spring in ’55, for 
everything that would bum had been burnt by the army 
during that pitiless winter, and the poor flowers had 
been so ruthlessly trampled in the mire that the few 


lOO 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


which survived had a hard struggle to get their heads 
above the ground. • 

However, with the sunshine came great exhilaration 
throughout the camp : copious supplies of all sorts, and 
such a multiplication of stores, canteens, cafes, restau- 
rants, etc., as suggested the Allies might become per- 
manent colonists, with no intention of ever returning to 
their native countries — to which the establishment of 
a railway from Balaklava to the front still further con- 
tributed. About half-way between these two points, 
on the main road, a large wooden building, half-store, 
half-restaurant, had been opened by a middle-aged 
colored lady who had somehow or other obtained con-, 
siderable popularity among military men in the West 
Indies. What she had done out there I don’t know, 
but Mrs. Seacole soon became a familiar name to the 
Crimean army. Horse and foot, hussars and artillery, 
naval officers and newspaper correspondents, all drank 
and dined at Mrs. Seacole’s. It was a sort of high 
change for gossip and stories. Men from all parts 
brought the news of the camp thither, as a common 
mart for the exchange of such commodities: Many 
dinners came off in the snug room at the back of 
the saloon, which was the general lounge. Matter of 
no little diplomacy at times, these dinners, as, unless 
previously ordered, the procuring of a table was im- 
possible. 

Perched upon a barrel in the saloon, with a short pipe 
in his mouth, and bearing no sign whatever of having 
been severely wounded, sat Tom Byng, indulging in 
gayest badinage with an old friend who was chaffing 
him about his late narrow escape. 

‘‘It wont do, Tom,” said the hussar; “you must be 


MRS. SEACOLE'S. 


lOI 


ruled out of it by all the conditions of war. You were 
carried away for dead, and we really can’t have you 
coming to life again in this way. Just think of the 
confusion it would make out here if other people be- 
haved as you have done ! Why, we should nevex know 
where we were, or who commanded anything. Now, 
I’m very sorry for you ; but in justice to the regiment — ” 
‘‘Shut up, Lockwood!” cried Byng. “Just ask how 
long it’s going to be before that dinner’s ready; I’ll 
show you then whether I am alive or not.” 

“But you’re not, my good fellow; in justice to the 
regiment you can’t be. I don’t want to counsel ex- 
treme or immoral measures. There is no reason for 
your completing what the Russian so clumsily at- 
tempted ; but you must surely see that it is your duty 
to withdraw from the army as quietly as may be, and 
so allow the step to go in the regiment. Consider, my 
dear fellow, you were killed!” 

“No more of your chaff!” rejoined Tom Byng. 
“ Let’s have sherry-and-bitters. I don’t think any of 
our fellows would care to get their step at my expense.” 

“ No, old man,” returned the other, as they made their 
way to the counter, “I’m sure they wouldn’t! And 
nobody can be more pleased than I that that Russian 
miscalculated the thickness of your head. ” 

And now a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, called by 
courtesy a waiter, announced to Lockwood, the presid- 
ing genius of the feast, that dinner was ready. And 
the convives^ some half-dozen in number, trooped into 
the back room to do it justice. 

“ Are you going to run that big bay horse of yours, 
Fleming, for the Division Cup next week? If they 
don’t make the hurdles too stiff he ought to have a 


102 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


great chance,” said Lockwood, the keen edge of their 
appetites being somewhat appeased. 

Yes,” replied Hugh, ^‘he’s improved a good deal 
in his jumping of late.” 

‘‘Well, he need to, '’remarked an officer of the Rifles. 
“ I was over the course yesterday, and they’ve got a 
stone wall in it that v/ill take some doing, I can tell 
you. It’s a good four foot and a half high, and no give 
about it. A real proper crumpler for those who happen 
to hit it hard.” 

“ Well,” rejoined Hugh, laughing, “I shall And out 
if the ‘Bantam’ can jump, anyhow.” 

“ For your sake it’s to be devoutly hoped he can,” said 
the rifleman. “ However the meeting will be great fun, 
and we want something to wake us up a bit. This 
trench-work is getting monotonous. ’Pon my word I 
haven’t heard a joke or a good story for the last week.” 

“ Right you are, ” said Byng, gravely. “The whole 
thing is getting slow, deuced slow. If it wasn’t for 
Mickey Flinn I’d have forgotten how to laugh.” 

“And who’s Mickey Flinn?” inquired Lockwood. 

“A distinguished ornament of my company,” said 
Byng, “ with a very poor opinion of those who guide 
and direct him. We were down in the trenches the 
other night, and among the men was a young recruit 
only just out from England. Whether the poor fellow 
was a little flustered, it being his first time under fire, 
or whether, as he said, he had strayed a little from his 
party and lost his way, I don’t know, but Mr. Flinn 
took it into his sagacious head that the boy was trying 
to desert. Well, he got hold of a young non-commis- 
sioned officer and they made the boy a prisoner. And 
then came llie formulating a charge against him. 


MRS. SEACOLE’S. 


103 


They could not bring him tip for deserting, because he 
obviously had not deserted ; they had only caught him 
straying toward the town. So they finally charged him 
before the colonel with ‘attempting to enter Sebastopol 
without leave. ’ The chief burst out laughing when he 
heard the charge, and exclaimed, ‘Why, confound it, 
that’s what we’ve all been doing ever since we came 
here.’” 

“And what did Mr. Flinn say,” inquired Lockwood. 

“ Oh, he was heard discoursing to his comrades the 
whole afternoon on the subject, saying, ‘It’s without 
lave, mind you, makes the difference. ’ He is evidently 
firmly imbued that , ‘If they’d only permission he and 
a few of his pals would be inside Sebastopol in no time. ’ ” 

“ I know the sort,” said the hussar. “ There’s no end 
to that fellow’s jaw; but he’ll fight as long as he’ll jaw, 
and ask for no better diversion. But you’re wrong 
about the siege. You fellows that half live in the 
trenches can’t see it, but to men like myself, who only 
have a look round occasionally, it’s palpable how close 
we’re creeping in. It cannot be long now, at all events, 
before you have a shy at the town.” 

Lockwood was right in his prognostication ; but what 
he did not dream of was that the desperate assault, 
when delivered, should result in failure, and that in 
less than three hours both French and English would 
have been driven back, and nothing left them but to 
bury their dead. Nearly three months more was des- 
tined to elapse before the famous siege was brought to 
an end. 

However, the dinner came to an end, the bill was 
paid, horses and ponies were called for, and then, swing- 
ing themselves into the saddle, the majority of the party 


104 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


rode off in the bright moonlight across the plateau to 
their respective lines. 

Before reaching their own camp, Byng and Hugh 
Fleming had bid good-night to their companions. 
Hugh’s servant rose from a seat outside his master’s 
tent as they approached, and as he took the pony from 
him, said: 

‘‘The mail’s in from England, sir. I’ve put your 
letters in your tent.” 

“Good-night,” said Byng, as he also dismounted, 
and strode away to his own dwelling, envying Hugh 
the letter he knew he would surely find awaiting 
him, and feeling utterly indifferent towards his own 
correspondence. 

Yet he was fond of his own people too, but he had 
no need to feel anxious about them. Like most men 
in those days, he hardly realized the uneasiness and 
nervous solicitude of the women at home — mothers and 
sisters filled with considerably more anxiety for sons 
and brothers than they deserved. 

There were three letters on the table. The super- 
scriptions of two were quite familiar to him ; but the 
third was in an unknown hand, and that unmistakably 
a feminine one. Tom gazed at it curiously, with an 
indistinct idea that he had seen the hand before, 
although he could not recognize it. He opened it, and 
then sat down on his bed to read it by the light of his 
solitary candle. 

“ Dear Captain Byng: — We are dreadfully concerned 
to see by the papers that you are dangerously wounded. 
It is terrible to think that those we have known and ” 
[here the word “ loved ” had been palpably erased] “ and 
liked should be in such constant peril. You can’t think 


MRS. SEACOLE'S. 




how I feel for poor Nellie Lynden. It must be so awful 
for her to think that her lover is in the midst of all 
these dreadful scenes. I am sure she must shudder 
every time she opens a paper for fear of coming across 
Hugh Fleming’s name in it.” 

“ Hum !” muttered Byng, savagely. “ Considering the 
pleasant things she has said about Hugh and the rest of 
us, I suppose she’s disappointed to find that we’re in 
the thick of it at last* 

‘‘ I am staying with her now, and she bears up beau- 
tifully. And now, dear Captain Byng, you must find 
time to write me a line about yourself I only know 
what the papers tell me, and that is that you are dan- 
gerously hurt, and that’s quite bad enough news for 
your friends and relations — for all those who really care 
for you. We shall all be so very anxious to hear how 
you are going on. I shall never believe that you are 
in a fair way to recovery till I get a line from yourself, 
let it be ever such a scrap. I shall feel miserable — 
that is, mamma and I will feel miserable — until we 
learn from your own hand that you are getting well 
again. With much love and sympathy from us both, 
and hoping to hear from you soon, believe me, dear 
Captain Byng, 

“ Ever sincerely yours, 

“Frances Smerdon.” 

There is a slang phrase in the present day that so ex- 
actly describes the effect that letter had on Tom Byng, 
that I cannot refrain from using it. It made him “ sit 
up.” The letter fell from his hand as he finished it, 
and he started bolt upright from his crouching attitude, 
and wondered what it all meant. Surely a girl could 
hardly write a letter like that to a man she disliked. 
It was very odd, and after thinking it over for some 
minutes Tom felt so utterly bewildered at this unex- 


Io6 BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 

pected epistle that he felt it necessary to fill a pipe and 
smoke and muse over it. 

He read the letter over three or four times, and finally 
came to the conclusion that the ways of women were 
past all understanding, and that he must see if he could 
pump Hugh Fleming on the subject a bit to-morrow. 

Poor Tom. If he had been making a match three 
miles across country, the chances are he’d have con- 
trived to get seven pounds the best of it ; nor was he 
likely to throw away a point of odds on the race-course, 
nor trump his partner’s thirteenth at the whist table, 
but when it came to the opposite sex he was but as 
wax in their hands. One of those men who, though 
not particularly impressionable, find it so difficult to 
say “ no ” to a woman’s request. Frances Smerdon has 
nobody to blame but herself for the present state of 
affairs between them. Despite his quixotic resolu- 
tions, she could have made him speak out before he 
sailed, and she knew it. 


CHAPTER XI. 


tom’s visitor in the advance. 

In his be’wilderment over night, Tom Byng had for- 
gotten to glance at the order-book w^hich Avas lying on 
his table, otherwise he would have found that his rec- 
reations for the next day were amply provided for — 
that he was detailed for a court-martial in the morning 
and that in the evening he was once more for the 
trenches. The consequence was that he found no op- 
portunity for that insidious cross-examination of Hugh 
Fleming, and it so happened that Hugh, who since the 
death of Grogan had been acting as a captain, was not 
included in the covering party formed by the — th in 
the evening. 

On his arrival at the brigade ground, Byng found 
himself for the advanced trenches, and though in those 
weary watches that had gone by a man had oft-times 
much leisure to brood over his affairs, yet the nights 
had waxed much livelier of late, and those in the ad- 
vance had to be so continually on the alert that they 
had not much time to meditate on love or on the angry 
importunities of creditors whose patience was exhausted. 
Although nothing but the monotonous roar of the big 
guns broke through the quietness of the night, yet Tom 
and his comrades kept vigilant watch and ward. They 
were dealing with an enemy bold and energetic, who 
threw no chances away, and whose skirmishers stole up 

107 


io8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


nightly, as near as they dared, to see if too fatal a sense 
of security might vouch them the opportunity for a sortie 
which they were always seeking. However, daybreak 
came without even an alarm, and the sun shone brightly 
out over the shattered town, heralding the advent of a 
glorious day toward the very end of May. Byng was 
sitting with his back to the parapet of the trench, mus- 
ing dreamily over Frances Smerdon’s letter and what 
reply he should make to it, when he was once more 
recalled to a sense of sublunary matters by his more 
mercurial subaltern, who suddenly exclaimed : 

I say, Tom, do you remember what day this is?” 

Yes, Wednesday,” replied Byng, lazily. 

“Wednesday; yes, sir; Wednesday, by Jove! It’s 
the Derby Day; and what a day they’ve got for it! Do 
you recollect going up last year and seeing Andover 
win?” 

“Yes,” laughed the other; “and how we all backed 
King Tom, and saw our horse run a good second on 
three legs, showing that but for the mishap he ought to 
have won. ” 

“ Ah, yes ; but what fun we had all the same ! What 
a lunch we had with those dragoon fellows over on the 
hill. They were all on Andover — drank buckets of 
champagne to celebrate his success, and insisted upon 
our drowning our losses in the same manner. Ah, we 
were a credit to the regiment on that occasion ! — patterns 
of sobriety to the whole British army! — after having 
been engaged in such a revel.” 

“ Tempora mutantur^ as they taught us at school,” 
laughed Byng. “ Last year pigeon pie, plover’s eggs, 
and Geislev'sdr/if, were hardly good enough for us; and 
now I’m dying for the sight of that villanous servant 


tom’s visitor in the advance. 109 

of mine with the tea and cold bacon. Surely they’re 
awfully late with our breakfast.” 

“No, just eight,” rejoined his companion, glancing 
at his watch. “ Listen ! there go the clocks inside, ” and 
he jerked his head in the direction of the town. 

A few minutes more and two or three servants be- 
longing to the regiment made their appearance, carry- 
ing their masters’ breakfasts with them. Very much 
to the astonishment of Tom and his companions came 
also a French officer, in the uniform of the Zouaves, the 
triple row of gold lace round his kepi and the elaborate 
embroidery on the sleeve of his smart, dark blue jacket 
indicating that he was a captain, just as much as his 
shaven forehead and swaggery, voluminous red panta- 
loons added “ and of the Zouaves.” 

Tom raised his cap politely to the Frenchman, whose 
kepi was off instantly in return, and then could not help 
casting a look of inquiry at his henchman. 

“ The colonel cojnmanding the third parallel, sir, 
told me to bring this French officer to you. And will 
you be so good as to show him all there is to be seen in 
the advance.” 

The French officer, with a flourish of his cap, com- 
menced a voluble speech in his own language, to the 
effect that if he might trespass upon the amiability of 
monsieur he would wish to see what we were doing in 
the front. Tom’s knowledge of the French language, 
like the majority of his brethren in the English army, 
was limited in the extreme, and the quick-witted Zouave 
saw at once that he was not understood. He changed 
instantly into the Anglo-Saxon vernacular. 

“Ah, monsieur,” he continued, “you no like to spik 
French. You English all can, but you nevare will, 


no 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


mon ami. I am engaged, like yourself, in this stupide 
siege, knocking our heads for months against this pig 
of a town. I sometimes wish I was back in Africa; 
chasing the Kabyles was more amusing than this. This 
morning I said to myself, "Mon cher., you ennui your- 
self, you get the rust, you get the — what do you call it — 
ah, bored. You require the change; you want dis- 
traction.’ I said to my chief, "Mon colonel.^ this fa- 
tigues me. These pigs of Russians will not knock me 
on the head, although, 7na foi^' ” he continued, with a 
shrug of his shoulders and a grimace, ‘‘ ‘they have been 
making it lively enough for us lately. With your per- 
mission, to-day I will go and look at our gallant Allies. 
I will study the little lanes and ditches they make, and 
see -if I like them better than our own. ’ And now, 
monsieur, I must throw myself upon your good nature, 
as soon as you have finished your breakfast. Permit 
me to offer you a cigarette,” and having handed his 
case to Tom, the Zouave selected one for himself, threw 
himself on the ground, and proceeded to smoke and chat 
as easily as if he had known his companions all his life. 
He was very communicative about his .past — he gave 
them to understand that he was a Parisian by birth, and 
that Paris was the only place fit to live in. “ But you 
do not live there for nothing, my friends; and when one 
has come to the end of one’s resources, there is nothing 
for a gentleman but the Seine, or Africa and the Zouaves. 
I chose the latter, and parole d'honmitr I have never 
regretted it. It’s a wild service, ours, but it makes the 
pulses tingle in your veins. There is not one of us but 
what has won his rank at the sword’s point.” 

Tom felt there was something fascinating about his 
guest, in spite of his somewhat braggadocio manner. 


TOM'S VISITOR IN THE ADVANCE. 


Ill 


He had the bearing, moreover, of a man who had cer- 
tainly been accustomed to good society. Tom knew that 
what he said of his corps was true and that the dare- 
devil troops of which he was a captain had little rever- 
ence for any officers who had not won their grade under 
their own eyes. Breakfast over, Tom began his task as 
cicerone, and was much struck by the shrewd, soldierly 
criticisms of the stranger. 

Ah, yes,*’ he said, at length, ^‘that flank battery of 
our friend’s opposite it is which infllades the hoyau 
which I came up, between this and the third parallel. 
But, mo ft ami^ what do you propose to do next? Your 
engineers must know that you can go no further; the 
ground is too hard. This is your advanced trench of 
all, I presume?” As he spoke the French officer 
leaned his elbows on the parapet lazily. “ And to say 
nothing of the abattis, you’re a long way yet from the 
Redan.” He continued to stare at the great earthwork 
in question, standing alongside Tom, although more 
than one bullet whistled past their heads. Suddenly 
he sprang upon the parapet, and, not to be outdone in 
hardihood, Tom immediately followed his example. 

Sacre ! ” said the Zouave, laughing ; “ but your com- 
pany is undesirable. They will think we are the lead- 
ers of a storming party.” And even as he spoke the 
persistent attentions of the Russian sharp-shooters once 
more sang past their heads. Feste!*' he continued, 
throwing away his cigarette, and making a comical 
grimace at Byng. This is getting a little too hot to 
remain. Adieu, monsieur. ” And in another second he 
had bounded down the far side of the parapet, and was 
flying as fast as his feet would carry him in the di- 
rection of the Redan, waving a white handkerchief 


I 12 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


which he had hastily drawn from his pocket as he 
did so. 

For an instant Tom was taken aback, and then the 
truth flashed upon him that he had unwittingly been en- 
tertaining a Russian spy, and had shown him all round 
our advanced position. He never hesitated for a mo- 
ment, but at once started in hot pursuit. Either he 
must bring back his treacherous guest a prisoner, or he 
would be well-nigh chaffed out of the army when the 
story of his entertaining that soi-disant Zouave got 
abroad. Tom could run a bit, and it soon became ap- 
parent it would be a very fine thing, in spite of the lead 
he had stolen, for the Russian to hold his own. It was 
impossible for either side to fire, the chances being about 
as much in favor of hitting one man as the other. The 
parapets on both sides were thronged with men who 
had jumped up from the trenches to see this impromptu 
match, and though Tom had gained very little, yet the 
spy had one point against him. Between him and the 
great Redan ran the abattis, and though, from the 
straightness of his path, the spot where he could slip 
through was doubtless all prepared for him, yet a slight 
delay was inevitable, and it was a fine point whether he 
could pass that before Tom’s hand was upon him. 
Nearer and nearer they came to the barrier, and it was 
soon evident to all the spectators that Byng was the bet- 
ter ^‘stayer” of the two, and a ringing cheer from the 
British trenches recognized the fact. A hasty glance 
or two over his shoulder speedily convinced the fugi- 
tive of the same. He saw his pursuer rapidly closing 
on him, and suddenly pausing for a moment in his flight, 
he drew a revolver from his breast and deliberately 
fired at his foe. He only precipitated events, for, blown 


tom's visitor in the advance. 1 13 

by his run, and with a hand that had lost its accus- 
tomed steadiness in consequence of his exertions, he 
missed his man, and before he could repeat the shot a 
tremendous blow from Tom’s fist stretched him well- 
nigh senseless close under the abattis. 

A roar of exultation arose from the spectators on 
the one side, and a yell of disappointment from those on 
the other. The two men were still in such close pro- 
pinquity that it would be perfectly impossible for the 
riflemen on either side to interfere, even had there not 
seemed to be a tacit understanding that the struggle be- 
tween the two men should be regarded in the light of 
a duel with which the onlookers had no right to med- 
dle. For two or three minutes the men remained at the 
foot of the abattis, the Russian recumbent, Tom lean- 
ing over him, with the pistol now transferred to his 
own hand pointed at his enemy’s head. 

“ I’m going to either take you straight back as soon 
as you’ve recovered your wind,” said Tom, in the quiet, 
steady tones of a man who is greatly in earnest about 
what he says, or scatter your brains out here and have 
done with it.” 

“ Bah! ” rejoined the other, with a fierce flash of de- 
fiance in his gray eyes, I have played and lost. I 
know the penalty. As well here as at the back of your 
trench an hour hence. Quick, monsieur.” 

On the faith of an English officer your life shall be 
spared if you render yourself a prisoner. Refuse,” and 
Byng once more pointed the pistol at his opponent’s 
head. 

'' Sapristi ! rejoined the Russian, as he rose to his 
feet, “ I’ve not much choice, but while there is life there’s 
another chance, and you guarantee me that?” 

8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


II4 

“I’ll pledge my word for yours,” returned Byng, 
still keeping a firm grip of his prisoner’s collar. 

“The game was worth it,” rejoined the Russian, as 
he walked towards the English trenches in the grip of 
his captor. “ A majority against a file of musketeers 
and a short shrift. Now I suppose it means a prison for 
an indefinite period. Fortune de la guerre F 

“ It’s not likely that we shall let you go to make use 
of the intelligence you’ve collected, ” replied Tom, as he 
handed his prisoner over the parapet into the hands of 
his own men, who, though they regarded him with the 
contempt that employment as a spy always brings upon 
the detected, still could not withhold a tribute of admira- 
tion to the splendid audacity with which the Russian 
had played his part. 

Tom marched his prisoner to the second parallel, 
and there handed him over to the colonel command- 
ing in the trenches, and told his story, concluding with : 

“ I have pledged my life for his, and I must be allowed, 
sir, to make good my word — ” 

“You may rest quite easy on that point. Captain 
Byng,” returned his superior. “I will relieve you of 
your charge, and shall send him direct to headquarters 
with that intimation.” 

The soi-disant Zouave had listened with the utmost 
nonchalance to the story of his misdeeds, but as Byng 
turned to leave, he exclaimed : 

“ Adieu, monsieur. May I ask the name of the officer 
to whom I am indebted for my life?” 

“ Captain Byng of — th,” replied Tom shortly. 

“Captain Byng — how do you spell him? B I — no, 
BYNG. I shall recollect that name. Byng, you 
have saved my life, and some day, perhaps — who 


tom’s visitor in the advance. 


II5 


knows — it will be my turn. It’s a queer world,” and 
with a shrug of his shoulder Lieut. Ivanhoff raised his 
kepi to Tom and started with his escort on his tramp to 
headquarters. 

For the next few days Tom Byng’s adventure with 
the Russian spy was the talk of the camp. That the 
story as it was bandied from mouth to mouth should 
meet with much embellishment was but natural. There 
were scoffers who declared that the whole thing was a 
friendly running match, got up to relieve the tedious- 
ness of the advanced trenches; that a deal of money 
had changed hands in the transaction ; that the Russians 
had paid in paper roubles which were unnegotiable in 
our lines ; in short, the story was bruited about with 
whatever garnish crossed the imagination of the jesters 
of the army, and in a week incidents in the Crimea 
were so narrated that the chief actors failed to recog- 
nize them. There was a well-known officer who when 
wounded was reported by the papers to have exhorted 
his fellow-sufferers to bear their agony patiently; but 
camp gossip gave a very different version of the pithy 
speech which he made upon that occasion. As for Lieut. 
Ivanhoff, he remained interned on the banks of the Bos- 
phorus until the close of the war, and years afterwards 
obtained high distinction when the intervention of Eu- 
rope compelled Russia to stay her victorious career, 
and sign peace under the very walls of Constantinople. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. 

There is a very fair-sized crowd gathered on the pla- 
teau before Sebastopol. Half the officers not on duty 
have drawn together to see the fourth divisional races 
decided. But for a few flags, one would have hardly 
recognized that a day’s fun of this sort was proposed, 
and that the race-card (there are cards, gentlemen), 
shows no less than five events, not including the “ moke 
race,” to be decided. No Crimean race meeting could 
be brought to a satisfactory conclusion without this later 
institution, and there is a light dragoon who is the very 
bete noir of all owners of likely mules, and who well- 
nigh sweeps the board (I had well-nigh said of cups) of 
purses for this interesting race. 

There is an absence of stands, tents, and a good many 
other adjuncts of an ordinary race-course, notably the 
total absence of ladies. This gives a business air to the 
whole thing which is utterly fictitious. In reality there 
is no end of gossip and laughter over the whole affair, 
and although the races are all correctly printed on the 
card, there is little attempt at keeping Newmarket time 
here. We start comfortably when every one is ready, 
nor are there any very close restrictions about colors. 
Breeches and boots most of the jockeys have managed, 
but a racing jacket is not strictly de rigeuer^ although 
from the number of them that crop up it seems a good 

ii6 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. II7 

many men must have been impressed with the idea 
that a jacket was a useful thing to slip into the bottom 
of a bullock trunk. There is much quiet lunching going 
on — not such as you see at Epsom, or at the back of the 
stand at Ascot, but “ just a snack, and a glass of fizz, 
you know,” yet partaken of amidst as much mirth and 
good fellowship as ever it was at the above-mentioned 
meetings at home. 

The great event of the day is the divisional open cup, 
for which there are only four competitors, but those four 
are supposed to be the best representatives that the 
army can boast, though they might not, perhaps, prove 
of much account amongst a lot of selling platers at New- 
market. These things, you see, are comparative. We 
all know the proverb of the one-eyed man, and the 
present quartet represent the kings of the Crimean turf. 
About the merits of the four there is much difference 
of opinion. The Bantam and Thunder are considered 
the pick of the basket ; which is the best is a matter of 
contention. In turf parlance, they can both race and 
stay, but whether they are safe jumpers is a little open 
to question. The second divisional open cup is a steeple- 
chase — that is, the best imitation that three miles over 
artificial fences can compass. 

Handy Andy’s party, who are very sweet upon their 
horse, begin picking up all the long odds they can ob- 
tain. They swear that their horse doesn’t know how to 
fall, and that what he may lack in speed will be more 
than compensated for by his superb jumping powers. 
As for the owner of the fourth, he fairly admits he’s 
afraid the company is a little too good for him, but says 
that he likes a ride, that his horse is very well and a 
safe jumper, that he shall just trust to the chapter of 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


tl8 

accidents, and that he shall at all events have a good 
view of the race. That the — th should be deeply in- 
terested in the cup, is not surprising. Is not the Ban- 
tam the property of one of their own officers? And is 
not Hugh Fleming going to ride it himself? There is 
a certain espt'it de corps in these things, and from the 
colonel’s tenner to the drummer’s shilling the regiment 
are on to a man. There is much discussion about the 
stone wall, concerning which the owner of Handy Andy 
and his friends are especially jubilant. 

‘‘ Tear an’ ages !” cries the former, a major of the Con- 
naught Rangers, “ av’it was only a foot higher I’d come 
in alone. There’s not one of the lot such a topper as 
my horse. Why, I’d lay a level fifty I’d ride him in 
and out of the pound at Ballinasloe. ” 

A little way off Hugh Fleming is in earnest conver- 
sation with Byng. He is carefully listening to his men- 
tor’s final instructions before weighing out. 

‘‘You see,” says Tom, “nicely as the Bantam jumps, 
still he’s young at the business, and it’s quite on the 
cards he may make a mistake if he’s flurried. We know 
he can jump the stone wall and that’s the ugliest fence 
on the course, because we’ve been schooling him over 
one just like it for the last three weeks. Take a good 
pull at him when it comes, and let him have it easy. 
The only horse you can’t afford to let get away from 
you in the race is Thunder, and I fancy he’ll no more 
want to hurry at the stone wall than you will. As for 
the other two, you’ve so much the heels of them you 
can catch them any time. Whether we can beat Thun- 
der we don’t quite know, but anyhow I don’t think 
you’ll find you’ve much in hand.” 

Needless to say there is no ring, and such wagering 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. II9 

as there is is done amongst the spectators themselves. 
More than one holder of Her Majesty’s commission tries 
his ’prentice hand at book-making and gets bitten with 
a madness destined to cost him dear in days to come. 
A little buzz of criticism runs through the crowd as the 
competitors for the cup take their preliminary canter. 

Thunder looks very fit.” “ Who will lay me three to 
one to a tenner about the Bantam?” ‘‘What the deuce 
does Tom Joskins mean by running that old crock of 
his?” “ He’s a good horse. I’ll take fifty to five about 
his chance. ” “ Good horse, if you like, but he’s got into 

rather too good company this time.” “You can put it 
down,” and a babel of similar remarks are bandied 
about as — the preliminary over — the four competitors 
make their way to the starting-post. Being the race of 
the day, and numbering so few runners, their jockeys 
have contrived to appear in correct costume. The flag 
falls without delay, and at once the rider of Handy Andy 
takes the horse to the front, and in the words of his 
owner, “Begins pounding away in real earnest.” The 
horse certainly is a magnificent jumper, but he can go 
only one pace, and his jockey is quite aware of it. He 
knows that his chance of victory must either depend 
upon Thunder and Bantam falling, or on their riders, 
for fear of such casualty, suffering him to obtain a long 
lead. But the artilleryman who is riding Thunder is 
cunning of fence, and was well known between the flags 
before the war broke out. He is not the least afraid 
of his making a mistake at present, but he does know 
that a tired horse 'is very apt to blunder, and thinks that 
he would rather have a little in hand and be able to take 
that wall easy in the second round — for they have to 
traverse the course twice. 


120 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Handy Andy meanwhile sails gayly along in advance, 
with Thunder lying at his quarters, the black jacket of 
Hugh Fleming some two lengths in arrear, and Tom 
Joskins on his old crock whipping in. ' 

And now came one of those curious incidents which 
when seen on a race-course always remind one of the 
way the colored bits of glass fall apart on the turning 
of a kaleidoscope. As they came to the wall, the young 
Irishman who was riding Handy Andy, thinking his 
horse was accustomed to it, sent him at the jump with 
a wild whoop and a flourish of his whip. The result 
was disastrous; for, swerving from the whip. Handy 
Andy jumped just across Thunder, and the two came 
down together in a confused heap. Hugh Fleming, in 
order to keep clear of the collision, pulled his horse so 
sharply to one side that the Bantam had to jump the wall 
almost sideways. The consequence was, he struck the 
wall slightly, blundered upon landing, and after strug- 
gling gallantly to recover himself, pitched forward on 
his knees and head and rolled over, leaving Tom Jos- 
kins, who had got safely over to the right, alone in his 
glory. 

At such an unexpected collapse of the race quite a 
shout went up from the spectators, and numbers of 
them galloped off as hard as they could to the scene of 
the accident. Hugh Fleming and the Bantam soon 
struggled to their feet again, but the riders of the other 
two horses lay where they had fallen ; and a whisper 
ran round the hillock which served the purpose of a 
grand stand, that both men were killed. 

Tom Joskins, wide awake to such a chance as had be- 
fallen him, wasted no time in looking what were the re- 
sults of the collision, but took his old horse by the head 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. 


I2I 


and sent him along best pace, quite aware that the 
further he got on his journey before any of his antago- 
nists got up, the better. He went on for some time before 
he even ventured to throw a glance over his shoulders, 
and then found that there was nothing anywhere near 
him. He thought he had it all to himself, so com- 
menced to take it a little more easily ; and it was not 
until he passed the hillock and heard the warning cry 
of his friends that he became aware there was anything 
left in the race but himself. 

Hugh had never lost hold of his bridle, but both he 
and the Bantam were rather shaken by the fall. Even 
when he had regained his saddle and set his horse going 
again, Hugh felt that he must give him a little time to 
recover, and that any attempt to hurry him at present 
would prove fatal. He wondered in his own mind 
whether it was of any use persevering when he looked 
at the tremendous lead that Joskins had got of him. 
His horse might be the quicker of the two, but then he 
dared not make use of his speed just yet, and in any 
case it seemed impossible to make up all that ground 
before the race was over. 

“No matter,” muttered Hugh, “I’ll see him over the 
stone wall a second time at all events. It settled three 
of us the first round, it might settle him the second.” 

But it was not to be. Joskins’s old crock jumped 
the fatal wall without the slightest mistake, and though 
the Bantam ran game as gold, and materially lessened the 
gap between him and his leader, yet he never could get 
fairly within hail' of him, and Hugh, when he found 
pursuit was useless, pulled up, leaving Joskins an easy 
victory. 

“Well, after such a turn-up as that,” exclaimed the 


122 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


owner of Handy Andy, ‘Ht’s to be hoped the engineers 
have something for ns to do to-night. If there’s any- 
thing they want taking they’ll find the Rangers in a 
lovely humor for it, they are broke to a man.” 

‘‘I’m afraid,” rejoined Byng, “our fellows are in 
much the same state. By the way, what do the doctors 
say of the two victims of the accident?” 

“ Knocked about a bit and shook,” replied the major, 
“ but they are not broken seriously. Poor Tim Donovan, 
the theatrical young beggar, he rode as if he was show- 
ing off a horse at Bartlemy fair.” The further events 
of the day have nothing to do with this history. That 
moke-racing hussar once more carried off the race in his 
usual artistic fashion, sitting well back on the animal’s 
quarters, in his shirt-sleeves, and with his gold laced 
forage cap set jauntily on one side. 

Tom Byng, over a solitary pipe in his own tent that 
evening, reflected rather ruefully that Miss Smerdon’s 
letter was still unanswered. Circumstances had pre- 
vented him from conferring with Hugh Fleming in the 
first place; and secondly, Hugh, out of sheer malice 
prepense had not only declined to be pumped, but, 
worse still, could not be induced to talk the thing over. 
Whenever Byng brought the thing fairly forward Hugh 
either changed the subject or at once turned the subject 
round to his own love affair, and about that, once started, 
he had so much to say that his auditor was more likely 
to grow weary than to get a word in. 

Still, that letter had to be written. Two mails had 
already gone out, and in mere ordinary courtesy he 
could no longer delay sending a reply. Through Nellie 
Lynden, Frances would of course be aware that his in- 
juries offered no excuse for his silence. What was he 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. 


123 


to say? He loved this girl, but he could not forget that 
she had laughed at him and flouted the regiment. Few 
people like to be laughed at, and ridicule has made 
more bitter enemies than ever good sound abuse has 
done. There are men who would sooner lead a forlorn 
hope than be the laugh of the town for three days ; and 
the woman who forgives a man for placing her in a 
ridiculous situation shows a magnanimity scarce to be 
counted on. Pens, ink, and paper lay before him, and 
still this man, who had never hesitated an instant to risk 
his life for the capture of a spy, could not make up his 
mind to write a few lines in reply to a pretty girl’s kind 
inquiries after his health. 

‘‘ Here goes,” he said, at last. She’s laughed at me 
onne; she shall have no opportunity to laugh at me 
again, as, if I allowed an atom of sentiment to appear, 
she certainly would. ” 

“Dear Miss Smerdon: — Very many thanks to you 
and Mrs. Smerdon for your kind inquiries. You have, 
of course, heard by this that my being returned wounded 
was a mistake, and I can assure you that I never was in 
better health and spirits than I am just now. If the 
work out here is a bit hard at times, there is at all 
events plenty to eat and drink — two very important 
things when campaigning — and we have undergone 
none of the bitter experiences of those who were here/ 
the first winter. Although not wrapped in ‘cotton- 
wool,’ and taking our share of the hard knocks, we 
are as a whole doing wondrous well. With kindest re- 
gards to yourself' and all at Twmbarlym, — yours 
sinserely, 

“ Thomas Byng. 

“ Camp before Sebastopol, July 30.” 

When Miss Smerdon received this terse reply to her 


124 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


letter she flushed to the roots of her hair, ground her 
little white teeth, and cried with very shame and vexa- 
tion. She had never felt so humiliated in her life. 
She — as proud a girl as ever stepped — in the madness 
of her passion had stooped to tell a man she loved him 1 
Who could put any other construction upon such a let- 
ter as she had penned? How she wished she had never 
written ! How she wished her letter had been as icily 
cold as Nellie had laughingly suggested. What must 
he think of her? Ah, he had his revenge now! Here 
were her own bitter jibes thrown contemptuously in her 
face. She pictured him with almost a derisive smile 
on his lips as he posted those curt few lines in reply to 
her own too effusive epistle. 

Shame on her! She had told her secret again and 
again in that wretched note! No man on reading it 
could doubt that the writer proffered him her love — and 
at that thought Frances buried her face in her hands — 
unasked. What had she done? Forgot her very sex — 
offered herself as a wife and been rejected. It would 
have been better for her, the thought, if that Russian 
bullet had gone a trifle lower, and then she could have 
wept openly over his death and have been spared this 
nethermost misery. Ah, no, Heaven help her, she did 
not mean that ; God watch over and save him, and send 
him safe through the perils that surrounded him, al- 
though he never could be anything to her now. 

It comes hard upon a woman to have the precious 
spikenard of her first love rejected, and Frances Smer- 
don’s had gathered in strength from the very efforts 
she had made to repress it. 

She said no word to Nellie of the letter she had re- 
ceived. It had been brought up to her room early in 


THE FOURTH DIVISION RACES. 


125 


the morning, and therefore Miss Lynden had no posi- 
tive knowledge on the subject. But she soon saw in 
the girl’s face that she had heard from Byng, and from 
her making no allusion to her letter had no doubt that 
it was unsatisfactory. Frances seemed as interested as 
ever, when the conversation turned upon the Crimea, 
but Nellie noticed that instead of taking her share in 
it, as she had done heretofore, she was now content to 
be for the most part a listener. As for Tom Byng, I 
don’t think he was quite so well satisfied with that com- 
position of his as he was when he first posted it. At 
all events Hugh Fleming heard no more of Miss Smer- 
don from his chum., and marvelled much what he had 
said in reply to that young lady’s inquiries. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 

Although Dr. Lynden had been a comparatively short 
time in Manchester, he had achieved a considerable 
social status there amongst the better and more refined 
circles. A suave, courteous gentleman who had evi- 
dently seen much of the world, and could talk well on 
most of the leading topics of the day. His knowledge 
of foreign politics was regarded with profound respect 
by his intimates. His forecasts of the strange events 
of that stormy period had proved wonderfully correct, 
and what Lynden thought of things was a question con- 
stantly asked by the leading business men there to 
whom the war was excessively repugnant. Some few 
objected to it on moral grounds, and still fewer on the 
conviction that the game was not worth the candle; 
that the struggle was unnecessary; that we were pull- 
ing the chestnuts out of the fire to serve the French, 
and that Russia would willingly have undertaken to do 
nothing that would interfere with our interests if we 
would only have kept out of the quarrel. But to the 
bulk of the Manchester men the war was distasteful, as 
it always is to men who get their living by trade. The 
extension of business is not brought about by the win- 
ning of battles. War must, of necessity, be paid for by 
the nations indulging in it, and has never yet conduced 
to the acquisition of riches — which is, after all, the 

126 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 


27 


main object of all manufacturing industries, or, for the 
matter of that, of niost other employments in this world. 

In the very beginning of the trouble the doctor had 
prophesied that it would all end in war. When people 
pooh-poohed him, and said it was ridiculous to suppose 
that we should ever take part in another European war ; 
that in these days of advanced civilization it was pre- 
posterous to think that we should have resort to such a 
barbarous way of adjusting our differences — the doctor 
replied : 

It’s just that belief that you will never engage in 
another European war that will bring it about. That 
is Russia’s idea also. As for civilization — it exercises 
very little restraint on the passions when roused. Hu- 
man nature never changes, but asserts itself in defiance 
of civilization whenever you come to the crucial test. 
Your rulers think you will not fight; but the nation is 
on the boil, and will have it so. Yes, there will be 
war, and not a little one, you will see. ” 

Not only had the doctor’s prognostications proved 
correct upon that occasion, but either his foreknowl- 
edge or his information about the march of events was 
singularly accurate. He took the keenest interest in 
the struggle in front of Sebastopol. He had carefully 
studied the best maps he could procure. His knowl- 
edge of British numbers in the Crimea, of what rein- 
forcements were under orders to join the army in the 
field, and of what the garrisons in the Mediterranean 
consisted, was remarkable. Not only was he a close 
reader of the daily'papers, but it was pretty certain that 
information concerning the war reached him from other 
quarters. He was always willing to discuss the situa- 
tion in the Crimea with Miss Smerdon and his daughter. 


128 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“Ah, yes,” he said one afternoon when he came in 
for his cup of tea, “ the drama progresses apace. With 
the fall of Sebastopol will end the first act. That we 
should take Sebastopol is necessary to our insular pride ; 
and even if we wished it, it is hardly likely that the 
Russians would allow us to re-embark. The French, I 
see, have taken the Mamelon — do you know what that 
means? That is preparatory on the part of our Allies 
to a request that we will take the great Redan, which 
it is said they find a thorn in their sides. Yes, it is 
probable that the curtain will fall on the first act before 
the. end of the month. And then, ah, then — where next? 
We shall have dealt Russia a blow at the extremity of 
her empire, but we cannot get at the heart. Napoleon 
tried that — and a pretty mess he made of it. We have 
no Napoleons now.” 

Dr. Lynden had usually been singularly accurate in 
his prognostications concerning the siege, and he was 
so far right that a general assault on the place was im- 
minent ; but what never occurred to him, any more than 
it did to many of the chiefs actually present before 
Sebastopol, was that the attack might fail. The siege 
had already lasted seven months, and it was not to be 
supposed when the Allies did deliver an assault it could 
be anything but a coup de grace. Why, even in this 
affair of the Mamelon, the Zouaves had reached the 
ditch of the Malakoff, and it was believed that if they 
had been properly supported they could hav^ taken that 
work. Oh no, the first act must be very nearly over. 

“You think,” asked his daughter, “that the final 
assault will take place before June is over?” 

“ Yes,” replied the doctor. “ The trenches are a per- 
petual drain upon our army that can be endured but 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 


129 


little longer, while the Russians have left thousands by 
the wayside on that terrible march across the Steppes ; 
but when, as in the Russian case, the army believes 
their ruler to be both their ting and their God, they’ll 
be always ready to die for him.” 

Miss Smerdon’s first impulse on the receipt of Byng’s 
letter had been at once to return home, but when she 
found that Nellie abstained from questioning her on 
the subject, she reflected that her mother would be 
scarce likely to show such reticence, and so came to the 
conclusion that she had best stay where she was for the 
present. The Crimean war exercised a great influence 
over people’s minds at that period, and to a romantic 
girl like Frances, with a special interest in the welfare 
of one of the actors in the drama, it became a positive 
fascination. She heard, somewhat more quickly, to say 
nothing of more directly, through Nellie, of what was 
taking place at the seat of war; and then at Twmbar- 
lym there would be nobody to explain the intention of 
the siege operations so lucidly as the doctor. Even 
Polly Phybbs had at times her scrap of information, 
derived from letters received from her brother, and 
there was no piece of intelligence from the — th but was 
worth listening to in the opinion of the two girls. 

There is nothing like a common bond of hopes and 
fears to draw people of different grades together. Miss 
Smerdon’s heart at that time yearned towards any one 
who had near and dear belongings in the Crimea. 
This caused her to unbend somewhat towards Polly 
Phybbs, and once 'more her thoughts travelled in the 
direction of Blue Beard’s chamber. True, she was 
mainly absorbed in the war, but for all that her mind 
at times would wander to other things. Again she 
9 


i-,o 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


talked the subject over with Polly, and found that 
young woman now quite as curious as herself about it. 
But Phybbs, while carefully listening to all Miss Smer- 
don’s views of the mystery, avoided any mention of her 
own suspicions. Still the result of their joint curiosity 
was that, while Frances was perpetually teasing the 
doctor to be allowed a sight of the laboratory, Phybbs 
was constantly hovering about its door, prepared to 
take instant advantage of finding it open. The doctor 
was much too keen an observer not to become speedily 
aware of this. He further was not long in discovering 
that a rather bullet-headed young policeman was also 
taking unwonted interest in the side-door of his house, 
keeping his eye on it, indeed, in such clumsy fashion 
as caused Dr. Lynden to give way to a fit of low, silent 
laughter. 

“Oh, dear,” he muttered, “these provincial police 
don’t seem to have acquired the very elements of their 
profession, or they never could have set such a young 
numskull as that to keep watch over me. I wonder 
what it is they suspect me of. It does not much mat- 
ter ; they have guessed wide of the mark, I have little 
doubt. That girl Phybbs, too, is always lurking about 
the door of the laboratory. Well, she would make noth- 
ing of it if she got inside ; it would take an agent of the 
French secret police to do that ; and even he might come, 
and welcome, give me but a few hours’ notice of his 
visit. True, I have done it before successfully, but I 
don’t like living under surveillance. Phybbs, my good 
girl, you’re an excellent servant, and I don’t mean to 
part with you. My charming Miss Smerdon, too! I 
really must calm the fever in her blood. There is only 
one way to cure women of an attack of curiosity — gratify 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 


13 ^ 

it. I will leave the secret portal open to-morrow and 
give you both the desired opportunity, and you will 
find nothing! Now this pudding-headed young police- 
man — the idea of watching my house must assuredly 
have been put into his head ; he never would have con- 
ceived it of his own intelligence. Hum ! I should rather 
like to know what crochet it is that his superiors have 
got into their brains.'’ 

True to his resolve, the doctor next morning after 
lounging into the drawing-room and announcing that 
he was going into the city, departed, leaving the door 
of the laboratory ajar — a circumstance speedily noted 
by Miss Phybbs. That young woman jumped at the 
chance, and determined to institute a thorough good 
search through the apartment, and see if she could lay 
her hands upon any slight feminine belongings, such 
as ladies do at times leave behind them — a glove, a 
handkerchief. She might even discover a note, letters, 
or something of that sort ; also at the same time if there 
was anything to indicate the correctness of Dick’s suspi- 
cions — that worthy having of late endeavored to teach 
her what was the principal plant of a coiner’s trade, as far 
as his somewhat imperfect knowledge on the subject 
extended. Bells might have rung that morning, but 
they would have rung unheeded, as far as Polly went, 
until she had finished her inquisition ; but after giving 
an hour’s harder work to her search than she had ever 
bestowed on the dusting of the room, she was fain to 
confess herself beaten. There was not the slightest 
vestige of anything that could convict the doctor of 
receiving female visitors or of indulging in the manu- 
facture of base silver. 

‘‘ There is no proof of anything whatsomever. There 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


132 

is nothing but nasty jars and bad-smelling bottles. 
Any way, my notion is better than Dick’s. We do know 
a lady came out of that door — which is more than can 
be said about a bad half-crown. ” 

Phybbs took care to let Miss Smerdon know that the 
forbidden chamber was open, and Frances could not 
resist taking a peep. A few minutes satisfied her. She 
was in search of nothing, and her idle curiosity was 
speedily gratified. Jars, bottles, and crucibles were only 
to be rendered interesting by the doctor being there to 
explain what he did with them. Frances indeed was 
disappointed at not finding drawings of cabalistic figures, 
a skull or two, a stuffed alligator, a glass mask, and all 
the usual paraphernalia with which the workshops of 
the alchemist or astrologer were garnished, according 
to the old plays and romances. 

Dr. Lynden, as an ordinary chemist, was a very com- 
monplace person, but in those higher walks in which 
Miss Smerdon pictured him, he was to be regarded with 
profound respect and veneration. The doctor’s pre- 
science with regard to events in the Crimea had lately 
induced Miss Smerdon to playfully express her belief 
that he was an astrologer, and that his prophecies were 
simply the reading of the stars. 

“ But,” as she said to herself, ‘‘there was no telescope, 
and as for skulls, why, there wasn’t even a skull-cap.” 

She felt no further desire to inquire into the mystery 
of Blue Beard’s chamber, unless by the special invita- 
tion of the doctor himself. It was not likely that 
anything would have come from Constable Tarrant’s self- 
imposed task if he had not been helped by the chapter 
of accidents. Dick was not at all the man calculated 
to shine as one of the sleuth-hounds of the law. He 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 


133 


lacked not only the keen powers of observation, but the 
untiring watchfulness necessary for a detective. He 
was a rather stupid, indolent young man, whose idea of 
hard work was to superintend other people doing it. 
And especially did he prefer that the said hard work 
should conduce more or less to his benefit. He would 
speedily have wearied of keeping bootless watch and 
ward over the side-door but for one thing. Notwith- 
standing his compact with Phybbs, Mr. Tarrant had 
communicated his suspicions to his superiors. They 
had listened to him half disdainfully, for they had no 
faith whatever "in his intelligence, but the senior of the 
two or three officers to whom his tale was told had 
almost derisively complimented him, and ordered him 
to persevere in his vigilance. 

There might be something in it,’' said Evans, one 
of the sharpest officers of the force, when Constable 
Tarrant had retired. “ I don’t suppose there is. It’s 
hardly likely that a man like Dr. Lynden, moving in 
the best of society in the place, should be running an 
illicit mint. Still,” he continued with a grin, ‘‘we 
know the, benefits of education and improved machinery. 
Your tip- toppers don’t live in garrets and slums nowa- 
days, but on first floors, and dress like swells. Now 
this gang are real clever, you’ll admit that. Scotland 
Yard, you see, is dead beat about them, and say the 
mintage is quite inimitable. ” 

His comrades nodded assent, listening evidently with 
much respect to Sergeant Evans’s words. 

“ All this points* to its being the work of tip-toppers. 
Now it’s a curious thing that a man should take a house 
here, and build out a laboratory with a private stair 
communicating with the street. They say he’s very 


134 


BEATRICE AND EENEDICK. 


clever, and all that; but his experiments in chemistry 
must be for his own amusement. Now there’s one 
grain of truth in what Tarrant says: ‘What does he 
want with a private door all to himself?’ ” 

“Just so, ’’said Inspector Fumard, approvingly. 

“If these smashers,” continued the sergeant, “are in 
Manchester, we must look for them in the least likely 
places. I’ll see if I can make anything out of Dr. 
Lynden. ” 

If the doctor has anything to conceal, it will be well 
for him to take heed. Constable Tarrant he might 
laugh at, but it is a cat of a very different color which 
is now watching the mouse-hole. 

That Sergeant Evans should stand either lounging 
about or walking up and down like a sentry outside the 
doctor’s door was very unlikely; but before a week was 
out he had acquired some information about him which, 
though it puzzled the sergeant, convinced him that the 
doctor had certainly mysterious avocations. Evans’s 
high position in the Manchester police enabled him to 
make inquiries which would have been impossible for 
any one not so situated. He discovered, for one thing, 
that the doctor, besides carrying on an extensive corre- 
spondence, was in the habit of sending numerous cable- 
grams to Odessa. This of itself struck him as singular 
in a gentleman not engaged in trade What might be 
the contents of those cablegrams the companies would 
not have told him if they could; but they did let him 
know that they were all couched in cypher. How this 
could bear upon coining the sergeant was entirely at a 
loss to conceive. 

Another discovery he made which was quite com- 
patible with the doctor being engaged in an illicit pur- 


THE LADY OF THE ROSES. 


I3S 

suit was, that a remarkably lady-like woman was in the 
habit of strolling from somewhere in the heart of the 
city out to the suburb wherein the doctor lived ; that 
though she apparently never noticed the house, she 
never turned until she had passed it ; and that her con- 
stant appearance had not attracted the attention of 
Police-Constable Tarrant, could be due only to his crass 
stupidity. 

Another circumstance which speedily struck the astute 
Sergeant Evans was, how singularly capricious this lady 
was in the rose she wore in her bonnet. She dressed 
so quietly that nothing but a trained eye would have 
detected this slight but constant variation in her head 
gear. The rose was sometimes red, sometimes yellow, 
sometimes white ; but to Evans it was speedily as clear 
as noonday that these were perfectly understood signals 
to the doctor. Whenever the rose was red, so surely as 
soon as the lady had strolled out of sight did the doctor 
emerge from his house and follow in the direction she 
had taken. That the pair met, walked and talked to- 
gether the sergeant easily ascertained, and that their 
interview invariably ended at the railway station from 
which the lady returned to town. On the occasions 
when the rose was of another color he found that she 
usually returned from her walk to Manchester, and the 
doctor made no attempt to follow her. Sergeant Evans 
was puzzled ; but this much did seem clear to him, that 
the doctor was in close correspondence with some indi- 
vidual or individuals in town, which correspondence 
was deemed too important to be intrusted to the post. 

That the gang of coiners they were so anxious to 
pounce upon were artists of the first force there was no 
doubt; but what was the object of this lady-like woman 


136 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


travelling perpetually up and down from London to 
Manchester merely to exchange a few words with the 
doctor either in the streets or at the railway station ? 
Had she carried back parcel or package with her, he 
could have understood that she was the medium by 
which the base coin manufactured by the doctor was 
transmitted to his associates in town, but she carried 
nothing with her but a hand-bag, and into that he had 
contrived to obtain a peep which convinced him it con- 
tained nothing. 

The sergeant, in his own vernacular, was fairly 
“ flummoxed. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. 

The 1 8th of June had passed and gone with a result 
that astonished the Allied army pretty nearly as much 
as it did Dr. Lynden. After the Quarries and the Mam- 
elon nobody doubted but that when the assault did take 
place the Allies would get in ; and that it would take 
place very shortly appeared evident. That it would be 
a pretty tough piece of work it was quite clear. The 
attackers might not perhaps get possession of the whole 
place in the first instance, perhaps only capturing the 
great Redan and the Malakoff. That the Allies would 
be fairly beaten all along the line, and with nothing to 
show for the terrible loss of life incurred in the assault 
except the cemetery taken by Eyre’s brigade, would 
have been credited by no one. As for the cemetery, it 
was a trophy which, as the men of the left attack con- 
temptuously remarked, they could have taken any night 
with two companies. 

When the news was first flashed beneath the waters 
to England, you may judge the terror it struck to the 
heart of Nell Lynden and her friend. ' Those first head- 
lines in the papers spoke only of a general assault at 
Sebastopol. “Terrible Repulse; Frightful Losses.” 
Bitter lines to women who had those near and dear to 
them in the Chersonese. Dr. Lynden was always per- 
fectly willing to talk over the successive events of the 
137 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


I3S 

war with the two girls, but his daughter’s personal in- 
terest in news from the Crimea he had persistently ig- 
nored. He had never alluded to her engagement — 
seemed, indeed, to regard it as a passing fancy which 
separation had effectually put an end to, and Nell was 
quite aware that in the event of the worst she would 
have to bear her sorrow by herself. She need expect 
no sympathy from him. Though fond of his daughter, 
the doctor was a hard and proud man, with an iron will 
under his suave and courteous manner, and he deeply 
resented the extreme coldness with which Hugh’s re- 
lations had taken the announcement of the engage- 
ment. As for Frances Smerdon, he had no idea that 
she had any peculiar interest in the march of events. 
But the terrible list came at last, without any mention 
of the — th, and when the full accounts, and also a let- 
ter from Hugh came to hand, it turned out that the regi- 
ment had been held in reserve, and was not engaged at 
all that day. 

“ It is very singular, ” remarked the doctor ; “ it upsets 
all calculation. The first act is not over so soon as I an- 
ticipated. Well, they are like cocks in a pit — bound to 
fight it out — they cannot run away. Singular to say, I 
am not clear that it is not the best thing that could hap- 
pen to us. If the Allies did but know it, this tremend- 
ous struggle at the extremity of her empire is the most 
exhausting thing for Russia possible. And when Sebas- 
topol does fall — what next? Ah, then, — if Russia could 
only obtain some compensating success elsewhere — 
take Paris, for instance, — peace might be possible. 
After swapping queens. Miss Smerdon, one may offer 
to draw the game.” 

The siege dragged on. There was no particular ac- 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. 


139 


tion, but there were incessant skirmishes, and the list 
of trench casualities grew perfectly portentous. It was 
like a running sore on both sides, and was cruelly weak- 
ening to the two antagonists. The lines of the Allies 
drew closer and closer round their foe, and it was evi- 
dent to the keen observer that the Western Powers and 
the Muscovite must once more speedily close in the 
death grip. And with the early days of September 
comes the fourth bombardment, which proceeded the fall 
of the famous fortress. 

It had been rather a sore subject in the — th that 
Hugh Fleming had met with no reward for the taking 
of the Quarries. He had brought the victorious but 
shattered band back to camp, and the regiment, though 
proud of the “Well done, — th!” with which their Brig- 
adier had ridden up and congratulated them the next 
day, were still hurt that no honors had been vouchsafed 
them in recognition of this their first deed of daring in 
the Crimea. Poor Grogan’s step had been filled up by 
the senior subaltern, who happened not to be present 
in the trenches on that occasion. But the corps was 
unanimously of opinion that Byng should have had 
a brevet-majority, and that a company should have 
been found for Hugh Fleming. If there was not a 
vacancy in the regiment, there could be no difficulty 
in finding one just npw. There was every probabilit}", 
indeed, of there being considerable promotion to bestow 
very shortly, as it was pretty generally understood that 
the assault would take place in the next day or two. 

The regiment is for the trenches this night. Byng 
and Hugh Fleming are standing in front of the former’s 
tent, watching the storm of shot and shell that is rain- 


T 40 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


ing down upon the doomed city, to which the Muscovite 
replies sullenly and fiercely, if not quite so vigorously 
as he did three days ago. 

‘‘We shall hear for certain when we get to the brigade 
grounds,” said Byng, “but I should fancy it will come 
off to-night. This can’t go on much longer. 

We haven’t the ammunition for it. We’ve silenced 
some of their guns, but it will be a toughish job all 
the same.” 

“Yes,” replied Fleming, “they are no flinchers, and 
are not likely to give in without hard fighting. Here 
comes the adjutant, about to tell you off to some pecu- 
liarly delicate piece of work, shouldn’t wonder.” 

“ I’ve just run across, Hugh,” said the official in ques- 
tion, “to shake hands and congratulate you on your 
company, although I’m sorry to say we are going to 
lose you.” 

“Lose him!” said Byng. “What on earth do you 
mean?” 

“ I’ve just had a note from a chum of mine, Kenyon, 
— he’s on the headquarter staff you know, — and he tells 
me that the Quarry Gazette has come, and that Hugh 
here is transferred to a lieutenancy and captaincy in 
the Grenadier Guards. You’ve got your brevet, old man. 
There are no general orders to-night. They are too 
busy, I suppose, down at headquarters, but you’ll both 
be gazetted to-morrow.” 

“We mean business to-night, then,” said Hugh. 

“Assault to-morrow, all along the line,” replied the 
adjutant. Three rockets from the French rings up the 
curtain. “ Once more, congratulations on your promo- 
tion, though, as I said before, we shall all be very sorry 
to lose you.” 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. 14I 

“ Well, I shall have one last turn with the old regi- 
ment, anyhow,” said Hugh. 

Yes, and a pretty lively one, too,” said the adjutant, 
laughing, ‘‘ for, from what the brigade-major told me, 
we are to be in the thick of the fun from the very begin- 
ning. However, as far as that goes, I fancy there will 
be very few left out of the game before it’s finished. 
Ah, there goes the fall-in,” and all three officers hur- 
ried off to the parade-ground in answer to the shrill 
note of the bugle. 

“Well,” said Tom, as they walked up and down, “I 
wonder how you will get on in the Guards? Out here, 
their life is pretty much the same as ours, but your pro- 
motion will most likely take you home, and then you 
will find soldiering in London very different from sol- 
diering in garrison towns and country quarters.” 

“ But I don’t want to go home, ” said Hugh. “ There’s 
a battalion of the Grenadiers out here ; I suppose I can 
join that? Why should I be sent home?” 

“ Because there’s a lot of fellows in England dying to 
come out here; because you’ve had your chance, and 
are bound to give some of the others theirs; because 
you’re the junior of your rank, and, like other juniors, 
must expect to do the dirty work — drill recruits, lick 
stout young laborers into soldiers, etc.” 

“By Jove, I never thought of that!^’ rejoined Hugh. 
“ This promotion isn’t half so good a thing as I thought 
it. I’d rather hang on, and get a company in my own 
regiment.” 

“ Nonsense!” said Byng, laughing. “ Pay, promotion, 
and plunder are the three things that they say a soldier 
should never pass when they come in his way. But here 
comes the chief. Fall in.” A few minutes more, and 


142 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


the — th found themselves part of a long, dark column, 
which was winding like a serpent on its way to the 
trenches. The heavy roar of the artillery was incessant. 
Shells whistled and spluttered through the soft summer 
night, the air seemed alive with meteors, and every now 
and then a heavy thud, followed by an angry explosion 
that burst close to the winding column, and the sudden 
stumbling of two or three men, proved the messenger 
of death had been launched only too successfully. The 
advanced trenches were gradually crammed with men, 
and bitterly did the chiefs of the reserves deplore the 
lack of one or more sheltered places d'amies wherein they 
might bestow their men. That the Russians, after all 
these months of practice, should have got the range of 
pretty well every part of the British lines it is easy to 
imagine; but fortunately the pitching a shell from a 
distance with accuracy into a ditch — which is what a 
trench virtually is — is a task that tries the powers of 
the most expert artilleryman. Where the trench ex- 
panded into a battery it was very different. There the 
Muscovite had a bigger target to aim at, and the men 
who served their guns suffered terribly during the con- 
cluding months of the siege. All through the night 
roared the thunderous cannonade on both sides; the air 
hissed and hurtled with the savage missiles ; while in the 
crowded trenches pulses beat high, and men strained 
their eyes in search of the first gray streaks which should 
herald the coming day. 

“ Daylight,” said Byng, pointing to the sky. 

“Now for it!” muttered many an anxious lip, and 
with ears erect men awaited the sharp word of com- 
mand from their chiefs and the shrill cry of a bugle. 
Neither came, and slowly the word ran through the 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. 


143 


trenches that there would be no assault until the artil- 
lerymen had had some hours’ pounding at the Russian 
lines. Their foes had taught the Allies’ leaders a les- 
son and had shown that, much as the guns might knock 
their defences about in the daytime, the Russian power 
of restoring those defences by night was almost magical. 

If the fire raged furiously all night, it was a very 
storm of shot and shell now the sun was up, and the 
gunners on each side had a fair sight of their oppo- 
nents’ batteries. The sun is high in the heavens; still 
goes on the constant roar and crash of cannon and mor- 
tar, and yet no signal comes for the assault. It is near 
noon, when suddenly three rockets leaped high in the 
air, and a crash of musketry notified that the French 
had opened the ball on the right. 

Forward the stormers!” cried the general command- 
ing the attack. “Forward!” cried the colonels of the 
leading regiments. “Away there the ladder-party,” 
shouted an officer of Engineers. The bugles rang out 
the charge. “Forward — th,” shouts Hugh Fleming, 
as he and Byng spring over the parapet, and dash for- 
ward at a steady double straight for the salient of the 
great Redan, while the very heavens resound with the 
sharp rattle of musketry from all sides. 

The abattis is broken rapidly by the sappers in three 
or four places, but even that momentary delay occasions 
fearful havoc in the ranks of the assailants, while the 
Russian batteries are now sweeping the space between 
their own lines and the British right attack with a mur- 
derous cross fire of grape and canister. Still they press 
on, dauntless as ever, though now every step a man 
pitches heavily forward and rolls over. What is left of 
the two leading regiments, the sailors and sappers, have 


144 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


gained the ditch of the Redan. Byng springs into the 
ditch, closely followed by his men ; two or three of the 
Engineers promptly raised a ladder ; he rushes towards 
it, and a terrible malediction escapes his lips as he dis- 
covers that it is too short. A little to his right, Hugh 
Fleming has been more fortunate, and having cleared 
a space by the free use of his revolver, has gained the 
parapet. His men swarm up after him. A sharp 
hand-to-hand fight, and the salient of the Redan is won ! 
Up other ladders their comrades pour to their assistance, 
and slowly but steadily the foe is driven back to the 
gorge of the work. 

But where are the reinforcements? They have room 
now to use plenty of men if they had them, but they 
are too weak in numbers to follow their foe further than 
they have already driven them. This the enemy is not 
slow to perceive : he rallies and stands his ground. The 
opposing parties pause, and glare at each other like 
pugilists between the rounds when the battle is far 
from foughten out. But there is this terrible difference 
between them : whereas no reinforcements are reaching 
the English, they are steadily pouring in to the Russians. 

The gallant colonel who leads the stormers is beside 
himself with vexation. He has won the work — is he 
to lose it, and shall all the lives it has cost him be 
wasted in vain? Messenger after messenger he de- 
spatches in search of those sorely needed reinforcements, 
but they never come back. 

‘H^ook here!” he said, addressing a small knot of 
officers who had temporarily gathered near the parapet ; 
do I look as if I was in a funk?” 

“ Not a bit more than the rest of us, sir,” promptly re- 
plied a captain of the Light Division. 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. I45 

“Well/' he continued, “reinforcements I must have 
if I am to hold this work. Tve sent four messengers 
for them. Not one of them has returned nor has the 
assistance come. Now gentlemen, I’m going myself, 
and if anything happens to me, I trust you do justice to 
my memory, and testify that I didn’t go into the infer- 
nal cross fire because I was afraid^'" and in another mo- 
ment he had leaped over the parapet and was gone. 

He did not share the fate of his messengers, but like 
them, he never returned. Before he could obtain the 
reinforcements he went for, the Russians had swept 
the English out of the Redan and driven them back pell 
mell to their own trenches. 

It was the lull before the storm. The officers took 
advantage of the respite to re-form and steady their 
men, to slip fresh cartridges into their revolvers, and 
generally to brace themselves for the coming struggle. 
They could see fresh troops pouring in to the assistance 
of their opponents. They knew that the strife between 
them must be renewed in a few minutes, and unless aid 
came to them, and that soon, they knew well what the 
result of that strife must be. Not a man wavered; not 
a cheek blanched. They knew what they had to do — 
to hold that work as long as they could, and then die. 

The pause is soon over. Cheered on by their officers, 
and exultant in their replenished numbers, with a wild 
yell the Russians once more hurl themselves on the foe. 
Dauntlessly are they met, and one of those savage hand- 
to-hand melees ensues, in which men’s eyes, like the 
Chourineur’s in Sue’s famous novel, see blood. Bayo- 
net thrusts and furious blows with clubbed muskets are 
exchanged on all sides. 

In the midst of this very whirlpool of battle Private 
10 


146 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Phybbs, still sticking close to Hugh’s heels, with the 
canine fidelity he had displayed the entire morning, 
found himself immersed. The confused mass swayed 
backward and forward, when suddenly there came a 
final rush on the part of the Muscovites, and by sheer 
weight of numbers the English were driven rapidly 
back. Peter Phybbs was doing his devoir gallantly in 
the fray, when just as this retrograde movement began 
his foot slipped on the blood-stained soil, and at the 
same time he received a blow from the butt end of a 
musket on the shoulder which brought him to the 
ground. Another moment, and the bayonet of a power- 
ful Russian grenadier would have terminated the career 
of the luckless soldier, when a bullet from Hugh’s re- 
volver stretched the grenadier across the legs of his in- 
tended victim. For a few moments Fleming made a 
gallant stand, and, with the aid of his death-dealing 
revolver, kept his foes at bay. At length, hurling the 
empty pistol furiously in their faces, he was about to 
fall back, when a bayonet thrust in the side caused him 
to reel backwards, and before he could recover himself 
he was in the fierce grip of his foremost foes. Short 
had been his shrift, perhaps, for the blood of his assail- 
ants was up, and they had seen two or three of their 
comrades fall by his hand, but luckily for Hugh one of 
their officers was close by, and sternly commanded that 
his life should be spared. But to this, having fainted 
from loss of blood, Hugh was utterly oblivious. 

If those few moments have cost Hugh Fleming his 
life, they have undoubtedly saved that of Peter Phybbs. 
But for Hugh’s revolver, his spirit would have already 
sped. But Fleming’s stand had enabled him to recover 
his feet, to rejoin his comrades, and be with them swept 


THE STORMING OF THE REDAN. 


147 


over the parapet by the victorious wave of Russian 
troops. As for the broken and defeated remnant of the 
English, they tumbled pell mell into the ditch of the 
Redan, as Tom Byng described it afterwards, ^‘like 
detected schoolboys over an orchard wall, ” and made 
their way back to their own lines by twos and threes, 
without any attempt at formation. If they had strewn 
the ground thick as leaves in autumn, during their ad- 
vance, it is certain that they suffered but little in their 
retreat. Whether the Russian batteries deemed it prob- 
able that their troops, following up the success they had 
gained, might make a sortie in force, or whether they 
had chivalrously abstained from further punishment of 
a thoroughly beaten foe, I cannot say, but so it was, 
and both Byng and Private Phybbs were amongst those 
who regained the advanced trench comparatively unhurt. 
Over Hugh Fleming’s fate his comrades could only shake 
their heads sadly when they got back to the camp. He 
had never been seen after that last charge of the Rus- 
sians, which had swept them out of the Redan, and in 
all probability he was numbered with the slain. It 
seemed to his comrades the very irony of fate to read in 
the general orders for the army that evening : 

Lieutenant Hugh Fleming, — th regiment, to be 
lieutenant and captain in the Grenadier Guards. Cap- 
tain Fleming will report himself at once to the quarter- 
master-general concerning a passage to England. ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


MISSING. 

The mid-day storm of carnage is over. That the 
English have been beaten at the Redan is well known, 
and all attempt to take that work is for the present 
abandoned. The perpetual rattle of musketry confirms 
the report that the French have got the Malakoff, and 
are still fighting hard to retain it, in the Karabelnaya 
suburb. What to do next is canvassed on all sides — 
both in the trenches and out of them ; both among those 
in the advance and those in the reserve. 

As Tom Byng pithily expresses it — “ It’s not likely 

we arc going to stand a of a licking like this quietly : 

more especially as those French fellows have got in. 
Kicked out, by Jove, is the only way I can describe our 
leaving the Redan!” 

The artillery duel a Voutrance seems to have been tac- 
itly abandoned for the present. Like two dogs that have 
fought, both sides seem engaged in licking their wounds 
and catching their breath, preparatory to renewing the 
combat; only that spattering fire in the Karabelnaya 
suburb tells that the foe still clings to the hope of oust- 
ing the French from the Malakoff. So at least was his 
pertinacious resistance in that part construed by the 
Allies. Subsequent events showed that even the gal- 
lant Todleben at last recognized that the game was up, 

148 


MISSING. 


149 


and that the struggle was only prolonged until darkness 
should cover their retreat. 

Sunset came at last, and with it the reliefs for those 
who had spent the last weary hours in the trenches. 
The Russians somewhat renewed their cannonade for, 
the next two or three hours, then it suddenly died away, 
only to be succeeded by some loud explosions within 
their works. 

“ That sounds deuced like blowing up their maga- 
zines, ’’.said an officer of the engineers, in the advanced 
trench. 

One explosion might have been an accident ; but 
not two. I say, Campbell,” he continued, turning to an 
officer of Highlanders who stood by, ‘‘the Redan has 
been awfully quiet for some time. Let’s go up and see 
if there’s anybody in it.” 

The two officers accordingly dropped quietly over the 
parapet and stole through the darkness towards the work 
from which the Allies had been driven pell mell in the 
morning. All was still as death. Slowly they picked 
their way amongst the dying and the dead across that 
grape-swept plateau until they reached the abattis. The 
Russian lines were perfectly mute, save now and again 
for a gun from a distant battery, or a slight spattering 
exchange of musketry with the French in the rear of 
the Malakoff. 

“We’ll crawl up as close as they will let us,” Camp- 
bell whispered. 

The engineer nodded assent, and the two crept on 
cautiously till they reached the very ditch of the Redan. 
There they lay down and listened. After a pause of 
two or three minutes, during which no sound came from 
the interior of the work, the engineer whispered : 


BEATRICI^ AKD BENEDICK. 


150 

‘‘ It is empty ; we’ll just stay here five minutes to make 
sure, and then go back with our news.” 

The five minutes elapsed, and still the same unbroken 
quiet. After the awful turmoil of the last four days, 
the silence seemed perfectly weirdlike. 

The two adventurers made their way rapidly back to 
the advance of the right attack, and at once communi- 
cated their discovery to the general commanding there. 
A small council of war was held upon the advisability 
of at once seizing the abandoned work, but the wary 
veteran who commanded quickly closed the discussion 
with the remark, ‘‘If it’s empty now we shall find it 
empty in the morning, and if it happens to be mined, 
it will probably have blown up by then. ” And it was 
well he so decided, for about daybreak a tremendous 
explosion emphatically announced that the work was 
empty, while the three or four explosions which speed- 
ily followed proclaimed that the Russians had blown 
up their magazines, retreated across the harbor, and 
abandoned the south side of Sebastopol. 

By daybreak the next morning it was known all 
through the lines of the Allies that the siege was over, 
and that the celebrated fortress had at length fallen. 
In the course of the day many officers and soldiers en- 
tered the town, having passed the chain of cavalry vi- 
dettes, now spread across the approaches to prevent 
their entrance. The chiefs of the army still feared 
there might be mines left as yet not exploded, and 
their precautions produced the sarcastic remark from 

Mr. Flinn : “ The such a place ever I heard of. It’s 

harder a dale to get into than Heaven. Here’s first 
the Russians wouldn’t let us in, and now, begorra, our 
own gineral wont let us pass. It ought to be a mighty 


MISSING. 


151 

pleasant place inside, for those that’s in it seem mighty 
anxious to keep it for themselves. It’s a murthering 
mistake I made when I listed. After all the months 
we’ve been taking it, to think we mayn’t even look 
at it!” 

Some few days had elapsed since Sebastopol had 
fallen, and still no tidings could the — th get of Hugh 
Fleming. The last man who could positively speak of 
seeing him in the Redan was Phybbs, who was never 
tired of narrating the story of the part he took in the 
77ielee — of how his foot slipped, how Captain Fleming 
came to his rescue, and how the last he saw of him he 
was in the midst of a crowd of Russians. And he saved 
my life, he did,” he would invariably conclude in his 
rather boyish treble, which was apt, taken in conjunction 
with his undeveloped physique, to make his auditors 
wonder why he was sent out for such rough work. One 
or two hospitals had been discovered inside the town, 
the beds tenanted by the dead and hopelessly wounded ; 
hospitals, too, in dire condition — as was likely after hav- 
ing been filled to excess during that last terrible bom- 
bardment and then hastily abandoned. One English 
officer was found therein alive, mortally wounded and 
delirious, whom death soon relieved from his suffering ; 
but there was no trace of Hugh Fleming. One only 
hope had Tom Byng and his comrades. He was not 
amongst the killed fotmd in the Redan, or on the plateau 
outside, and it was little likely the Russians had carried 
him off unless he had been alive. Still it was an extra- 
ordinary thing that no letter came from him if he was a 
prisoner. Officers under those circumstances generally 
wrote, not only to relieve the anxiety of their friends, 
but for such necessaries as money, clothes, etc. Then, 


152 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


as far as they could, each side helped the other to com- 
plete the list of their casualties. But of Captain Flem- 
ing there was no mention. 

If there had been anxious moments about the i8th of 
June at Manchester, you may judge what the feelings of 
the two girls were when the wire flashed home the news, 
and the various papers announced in their largest type, 
“ The Fall of Sebastopol,’' knowing as they did too well 
the terrible postscript that had to follow. Had it been 
possible, Nell would have telegraphed at once to the 
regiment for reliable information, but the submarine 
cable was reserved altogether for official despatches, as 
indeed was absolutely necessary. There were too many 
people at home who in their solicitude for friends and 
relatives in the Crimea would have used that cable re- 
gardless of expense. Wealthy people, too, at that time 
would have spent money freely only to have had the 
very latest news from the Crimea. No war we have 
engaged in since has excited such feverish interest in 
England, until we come to the dramatic story of Wolse- 
ley’s splendid dash across the desert to Khartoum, with 
its desperate fighting and sad death roll — all ending in 
that melancholy wail, Too late!” 

That it was an excessively anxious time for Nell Lyn- 
den may be easily believed. One thing that puzzled 
her much was, for the first time she did not know where 
her lover might be. When she had last heard from 
him he was doing duty as usual with the — th, but Miss 
Lynden had seen that gazette in which Hugh was pro- 
moted into the Grenadier Guards, even a little before 
it reached the Crimea. Her father, whose knowledge 
of the British army was as accurate as if he had passed 
some years of his life in it and was familiar with all the 


MISSING. 


153 


details thereof, in reply to her questioning had informed 
her that an officer’s promotion from one regiment to 
another involved his joining the regiment he was pro- 
moted to ; that Captain Fleming would therefore join the 
Guards; and that the Guards, in consequence of the 
terrible punishment they had endured at Inkerman 
and their sufferings during the winter, had been so 
reduced that they had been sent down to Balaklava and 
placed in reserve. Miss Lynden therefore clung to the 
fond hope that her lover was not actively engaged upon 
this occasion. 

“He has done enough, Frances, I’rh sure; and if he 
is only safe I’m sure it cannot signify his not being with 
the old regiment this time. ” 

To which Miss Smerdon made no reply. She could 
only think that the man who despised her, the man 
whom she never meant to see again, but whom, alas ! 
she still loved, was still at the front. Ah, was he still 
at the front? And then the tears came into her eyes, and 
she thought what wouldn’t she give, even to know that 
much. 

Dr. Lynden showed an indifference about the return 
lists that made the two girls perfectly furious. As Miss 
Smerdon said: 

“ We don’t expect our fathers to take quite the same 
interest in our lovers that we do ourselves ; but, darling 
Nell, your father really might have some little feeling 
for them he knew fairly well such a few months ago.” 

The lives of the combatants in the eyes of Dr. Lyn- 
den were as the loss of so many pawns in in the game, 
save and except it should happen to be that of some 
combatant of mark. But as he had already said, there 
were no Napoleons nowadays, and there was only one 


154 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


man engaged in the struggle whose value the aoctor ap- 
praised at a very high standard. That was the intrepid 
Engineer who had so long defended Sebastopol. The 
doctor’s mind at present was busy with conjectures as 
to where the second act would take place. 

“ As for the north side,” he would say, “ it’s perfectly 
immaterial. I don’t suppose the Russians care whether 
we have it or they ; their fleet is sunk, we shall destroy 
their arsenal, blow in their docks, and Sebastopol is a 
thing of the past — c'est Jini.'' 

But the grim returns are cabled home at last. The 
two girls glance eagerly through the list until they come 
to the — th. The regiment was engaged quite as hotly 
as it had previously been in the Quarries, but fortune had 
favored it on this occasion, and it had suffered far less 
severely both in officers and men. Two of the former 
only were wounded, and it was with a sense of intense 
relief that they saw no mention of the names of either 
Byng or Fleming. Then they turned to the general 
account of the capture of the place, of which, though the 
reports were as yet meagre, there were still quite suffi- 
cient to make one long to learn the whole story. Sud- 
denly Miss Smerdon, who was now in entire possession 
of the paper, uttered a low cry and gasped out : 

“ Oh, Nell, Nell, my darling! I am so sorry for you !” 

Frances’s eye had once more reverted to the list of 
killed and wounded, and at the bottom of this she saw 
what had before escaped their eyes : 

“We regret to say that Captain Fleming, of the Gren- 
adier Guards, is among the missing.” 

Nell Lynden turned very white, and her lips twitched 
a little ; but more habituated to self-control than her 


MISSING. 155 

emotional friend, she only held out her hand, and said 
quietly, though her voice shook a little : 

‘‘ Give me the paper. ” 

Placing her finger on the fatal line, Frances handed 
it to her in silence. 

For a moment Nell gazed at the paragraph half- va- 
cantly, as one who did not understand its meaning, and 
this in truth she did not. She was trying to think what 
“ missing ” meant. Why did they not know where he 
was? If he were killed, if he were wounded, surely 
some one must know. Could it mean that he was a pris- 
oner? No, hardly that, she thought; since Inkerman 
it had so rarely happened that officers had been made 
prisoners on either side — not for any barbarous reasons 
of refusing quarter, but simply it had happened so. 

“What does it mean?” she asked, at last. 

But Miss Smerdon could only reply, with tears, that 
she did not know, and “ missing” must mean “ missing. ” 

Then Nell reflected what her father had told her — 
that Hugh would at once have to join his new regiment ; 
and again she glanced at the brief story of the assault 
contained in the paper she held in her hand. Yes, her 
father was right ; it mentioned that the Guards and High- 
landers, though marched up to the front, had been held 
in reserve during the 8th of September. It must be a 
mistake ; the next mail would probably bring a letteil 
from Hugh, and make her laugh over her fears. Surely, 
after preserving him through so much danger, God 
would not be so cruel as to take her lover from her on 
the last day of that -terrible siege. She never reflected 
that such sorrow must be the lot of many a woman in 
England who had read the returns that day. 

But that next mail brought no letter from Hugh, and 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


156 

then, heart-sick with terrible anxiety, Nell Lynden 
wrote for news to Major Byng. She had nerved herself 
now for the worst. She knew some disaster must have 
befallen Hugh, or he would never have failed to scrawl 
a note after such a battle as the last. She shed no tears ; 
she made no outward moan ; she even shrank from spec- 
ulating over Hugh’s probable fate with her friend. But 
her face wore that look of sternly repressed trouble 
which is far more touching in a woman than lamenta- 
tion and tears. As for these latter, Frances in her sym- 
pathy shed quite enough. One might indeed have sup- 
posed that Hugh was her lover instead of her friend’s. 
But the next mail brought a letter from the Crimea to 
Miss Lynden, directed in a hand which, though she failed 
to recognize it, brought the blood to Miss Smerdon’s 
temples when she saw it. 

“ Dear Miss Lynden : Knowing exactly how things 
stand between you and Hugh Fleming, I feel sure you 
will be very distressed at not hearing from him last mail. 
I have waited to write to you till this in the hope that I 
might have good news to send and set your mind at 
ease. But I am very, very sorry to say that we know 
nothing of Hugh nor of what has befallen him. He took 
a last turn with the old regiment on the eighth, and 
was one of the foremost into the Redan. He was there 
during the whole of that bitter struggle which resulted, 
as the papers no doubt have already told you, in our being 
kicked out solely for want of reinforcements. I saw him 
and spoke to him myself several times during the fight 
inside that work, but the last man, as far as we can 
make out, who actually saw him was a private soldier 
called Peter Phybbs, who declares that he was then fight- 
ing desperately with half-a-dozen Russians. He is a 
protSg^ of your own. Miss Lynden — says that he is a 
brother of your maid, and that Hugh saved his life that 


MISSING. 


157 


day. I have told him to write a full account of it all to 
his sister, thinking that he will write to her with far 
less restraint than if I told him to address yourself. I 
can only say that Hugh’s fate at present is involved in 
mystery. He certainly was not amongst the killed or 
wounded found in the Redan and round it. He was not 
in the hospitals at Sebastopol which the Russians were 
compelled to abandon in their retreat, and I still don’t 
despair of his once more turning up. The obvious con- 
clusion one ought to come to is that he has been taken 
prisoner ; but to be quite candid with you, it is singular in 
that case that we have not heard from him, as the enemy 
always allow a prisoner to write to his friends and give 
particulars of his misfortune. Still the exigencies of 
their sudden retreat may have prevented all this. 
Deeply regretting I have nothing more satisfactory to 
tell you, and pledging myself to write as soon as ever I 
receive tidings of Hugh, 

‘‘ Yours very sincerely, 

Thomas Byng. 

“ Camp before Sebastopol, Sept, 14th.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


POLLY CHANGES HER MIND. 

Sergeant Evans is getting extremely interested in 
the study of Dr. Lynden’s life. He is very doubtful as 
to coining being the doctor’s vocation. He would not 
as yet say positively that it was not so, but certainly the 
sergeant did not much believe the doctor was engaged 
in that. As for the lady of the roses, she seemed at pres- 
ent almost to live upon the railway between Manchester 
and London. She was more capricious as to the color 
of the roses in her bonnet than ever ; but she was still 
constant to that mode of decoration. So faithful was 
she to her walks in the direction of the doctor’s house 
that they soon attracted the attention of Miss Phybbs. 
She recognized the lady in an instant, and noticed the 
perpetual change of color in the head-gear, nearly as 
quickly as the detective had done. As for Constable 
Tarrant, unless he had seen the lady come out of the 
side door, it would never have occurred to him that it 
was odd her walking so continually in that direction. 
In short, Tarrant was by this heartily sick of the whole 
thing, and would long since have given up keeping his 
eye on the doctor but for the commands of his superiors. 
There was very little perseverance about Richard Tar- 
rant. Advantage must accrue speedily to induce him 
to stick to any pursuit. At present his watch was of a 
very perfunctory nature, and so far had only been re- 
warded by his seeing some two or three ordinary-look- 

158 


POLLY CHANGES HER MIND. 


^59 


ing men go in and out of the side door. The doctor, 
indeed, had fairly baffled his inquisitors; and though 
weeks, even months, had elapsed since Tarrant first de- 
cided that an eye must be kept upon him, he and Phybbs 
had learnt but very little. Sergeant Evans, albeit a 
skilled detective, had learnt little more, and though 
he still pursued the inquiry, was doing it now with no 
expectation of discovering crime, but more because the 
elucidation of the problem piqued him. To the ser- 
geant a mystery he could not penetrate had all the fas- 
cination that a stiff double acrostic has for some people. 

One morning about the end of September, when Miss 
Smerdon came down to breakfast, she was surprised to 
notice signs of agitation in her usually calm, self-pos- 
sessed young hostess, which she at once concluded were 
caused by news from the Crimea. She timidly ventured 
to express as much, for Frances lived in dread that all 
this stern repression must end in a frightful burst of feel- 
ing whenever the cruel news did come. Of Hugh Flem- 
ing’s fate there were no tidings. No letter came from 
Byng. The papers regretted, ever and anon, that no in- 
telligence had come to hand regarding the missing 
officer, and spoke in a hopeless fashion of his ever being 
heard of again alive. 

Miss Smerdon herself had little doubt that if ever 
Hugh Fleming was discovered it would be amongst the 
ruins and debris of the captured town, and, alas ! prob- 
ably only to be recognized by his uniform. However, 
Miss Lynden assured her that it was nothing of the kind. 
Still there was a slight embarrassment perceptible in 
Nell’s manner which caused Frances to wonder what 
had disturbed her equanimity. Dr. Lynden — not an un- 
usual thing with him — was absent at breakfast* At 


i6o 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


length Miss Lynden said, I hope yon wont think me 
very rude and inhospitable, Frances, if I ask you to go 
home at very short notice. The truth is, m.y father has 
just received news that obliges him to leave this at once, 
and he wishes to take me with him.” 

Frances was not a little surprised, but at once replied : 

“ Of course I will. F 11 go to-day if I can. I’ve paid you 
an unconscionable visit. It has been very good of you, 
indeed, to bear with me for the last three months. ” 

‘‘No, no, it isn’t that,” said Miss Lynden; “I don’t 
want you to go to-day, and above all I must ask you to 
say nothing about your going till to-morrow morning. 
You got no letters to-day, remember. To-morrow I will 
take care you receive one. It will be your excuse for so 
suddenly returning home. I am awfully sorry, Frances, 
and I know I am seeming very unkind; but I can’t help 
it. Papa says we must go, and I know no more about it. ” 

“Not another word, Nell. I’m sorry to leave — very 
sorry to leave you in your sore trouble ; and you were 
so good to me in mine. You say but little; still, I can 
see how you suffer. One don’t speak of such things. 
You know my secret; well, I never said anything more 
to you about it, and am not going to now. All is over 
between us; but, thank God, he is safe. Ah, if we 
could only hear the same of Hugh Fleming!” 

Miss Lynden’s stoical composure somewhat gave way, 
and it was in unsteady tones that she replied : 

“We must both wait and hope, Frances, for I have a 
firm conviction that your love affair will all come right 
in the end.” 

Miss Smerdon shook her head, though a thrill of 
exultation shot through her breast at the suggestion. 

“As for me,” continued the girl, “ I must still hope, 


POLLY CHANGES HER MIND. l6l 

though judging from what I see here, and she pointed to 
the paper, “ I am hoping against hope.’' 

It was a rather melancholy day, that last. It was not 
likely that conversation between the two friends could 
be anything but of the most sombre description. Each 
felt that in leaving Manchester they were cutting them- 
selves off from all direct intelligence from the Crimea, 
and would have to depend for their news on the daily 
papers. Miss Lynden, it is true, might write to Major 
Byng ; but she had now no address to give him. When 
she inquired of her father as to where letters were to be 
forwarded to them, he replied sharply : 

“We shall have no address for the present. You 
have not very many correspondents, and you had bet- 
ter let them know that such is the case. Anything that 
arrives here will have to remain till our return, which is 
a very indefinite period. I shall be busy all day in the 
laboratory. Remember we start to-morrow morning 
early.” 

Although the two girls strictly conformed to the dbc- 
tor’s injunctions, and made no allusions to their ap- 
proaching departure before Phybbs, yet they naturally 
commenced preparations for their different journeys. It 
was not to be supposed that these escaped the observa- 
tion of the lynx-eyed Polly, who was sorely exercised in 
her mind as to what it behoved her to do upon this oc- 
casion. Their all going away without saying a word to 
any one she felt quite certain Dick would look on as sus- 
picious. She could not but admit it was, herself. She 
did not believe that the doctor was engaged in coining, 
or in any nefarious transactions ; but then the police did, 
or else why had they told Dick to keep an eye upon him. 
And Constable Tarrant had taken care, with a good deal 

II 


i 62 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


of swagger and conceit, to inform her that was the case. 
He forgot to mention that, with a view of showing his 
own intelligence, he had told his superiors that he had 
made np to one of the servant girls in the house, and 
that nothing took place in the doctor’s residence of which 
he was not informed. Sergeant Evans placed very lit- 
tle confidence in his subordinate, but he certainly, under 
those circumstances, did not think the doctor could make 
any preparations for departure without its coming to 
his knowledge. He had no reason to suppose that the 
doctor had any intention of levanting, and, as we know, 
was now continuing his investigation more from curios- 
ity than from any belief that he was engaged in feloni- 
ous pursuits. 

Phybbs’s breast was torn with conflicting emotions. 
Suppose the police should prove right after all, and after 
his escape the doctor should turn out to be a felon, who 
through her connivance had slipped through their fin- 
gers! What would Dick say to her? He would declare 
that his chance had come, that the opportunity of giving 
valuable information to his superiors had been his, and 
that thanks to her keeping what she knew to herself he 
had missed it. Then what did this hurried departure 
mean? If the doctor was carrying on an intrigue, and 
had finally made up his mind to run away with the lady 
of the roses, he certainly would not take his daughter 
with him. No, she supposed the police must be right. 
Women constantly stood in the dock along with men. 
The lady of the roses was probably only a confederate 
in crime. She was sorry for her master, but she had a 
public duty to perform. And then came the practical 
part of the argument — that if she failed to do it Dick 
would give her a pretty hard time. Yes, she would ask 


POLLY CHANGES HER MIND. 163 

for leave to go out for an hour that evening, slip down 
and see Dick, and tell him what she knew. 

Something occurred that afternoon which entirely 
changed Polly’s resolve, and that was the arrival of the 
Crimean mail, bringing a letter for “ Miss Phybbs, care of 
Dr. Lynden, etc. , ” and as she looked at it Polly recognized 
her brother’s caligraphy. It was not very often she 
heard from him ; for, although Peter was a fairly expert 
penman, soldiers in the field have not many facilities 
for letter- writing. If Polly had not been quite as anx- 
ious as the young ladies, she had certainly felt very un- 
easy and uncomfortable when news came of desperate 
fighting in the Chersonese. She was fond of her 
brother, and a housemaid and her mistress feel pretty 
much alike on these occasions. She had not heard from 
him since the 8 th of September, but regarded him as 
safe, as his name did not figure among the returns of 
the — th on that day. 

Miss Lynden was naturally of a reticent disposition, 
and in the agony of her own grief had never told Polly 
what she had learnt from Byng’s letter. Miss Phybbs 
felt satisfied that her brother was safe, but she had no 
idea that he owed his life to anything but the fortune of 
war. Peter’s letter told her the whole story. 

It is not worth producing, but the following extract 
will give Private Phybbs’s idea of his share in the day: 

“Well, Polly, you see, I’ve been shot at a good deal 
in the trenches since I’ve been out, but this was my first 
go in at the Rooshuns, real hand-to-hand, and if I don’t 
know what fighting means now I never shall. Some of 
the old soldiers say it was as hot as ever they seed it. 
It was just about mid-day when we got the order to go 


164 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


and take the Redan. I made tip my mind to stick close 
to the captain. He had been very good to me ever since 
I came out, and as I reckoned we were all bound to be 
killed, I thought we might as well be killed together. 
How we got across the open I don’t know. Men went 
down like skittles, but somehow nothing touched the 
captain and me, and the next I know was we were in the 
ditch of the Redan, and the captain going up the ladder 
like a squirrel. Well, we blundered up the ladder after 
him as we best could. He must have cleared thew^aya 
bit for us, for I know I had time to get down into the 
work before I was hand-to-hand with the Rooshuns. 
We was at it hammer and tongs then for I don’t know 
how long; every now and then we’d stop for a bit, and 
then go at it again worse than ever. But, you see, they 
kept on getting more men, and we didn’t, and so we was 
bound to be licked in the end. After we had been fight- 
ing for ever so long, they made a great rush. My foot 
slipped, down I went, and it would have been all over 
with me then and there if the captain hadn’t cut in and 
fought the lot of ’em while I got up again. 

“Well, I can’t tell you much more about it. They 
were too rnany for us. The last I saw of the captain he 
was in the middle of a lot of Rooshuns fighting like a 
madman. It aint no use, Polly, saying I ought to have 
gone back and helped him; I couldn’t. None of us 
could. They drove us back and bundled us over the 
parapet neck and crop, and very lucky for those that 
were bundled over the parapet ; those that were left were 
killed and wounded. I heard the adjutant say it was 
bad enough, but we’d got out of it cheap considering. 
But the worst of it is, we can hear nothing of Captain 
Fleming. They can’t find him, dead or alive, and I 
think he must be a prisoner, though it’s very odd none 
of the officers have heard from him. 

“ Please give my duty to Miss Lynden, and say if it 
hadn’t been for the note she gave me, I should never 
have written you this.” 


POLLY CHANGES HER MIND. 


' 165 


The perusal of this letter caused a complete reversal 
of Polly’s plans. How could she hand the father over 
to the police when the daughter’s lover had saved her 
brother’s life, as it seemed to Polly, at her young 
mistress’s intervention? No, it was a sore struggle ; but 
if Dick should upbraid her on the one hand, what on 
the other should she say to her brother if it should turn 
out that her treachery had delivered Dr. Lynden to the 
clutches of the law. 

The first thing Miss Phybbs did was to rush breath- 
lessly to the drawing-room, and with flushed face, pour 
forth her gratitude to her young mistress for the note 
she had given her, then to place her brother’s letter in 
Miss Lynden ’s hand, and then subside into helpless con- 
fusion as the thought flashed across her that the latter 
carried no comfort to her mistress but only recalled her 
sorrow to her mind. Nellie flushed a little as she re- 
membered how he had forgotten to tell Polly all this 
before. But the two ladies really were much interested 
in the account Private Phybbs gave of the assault on 
the Redan, although it was not exactly news to them. 

Dismissed with a few kindly words Polly had no 
longer any doubt of the course she should pursue. She 
would not lift a finger in the interests of the police. If 
Dr. Lynden had urgent reasons for getting out of the 
way, she most certainly would not mar his plans. She 
could only hope, for his own sake, that the police were 
mistaken, but she should require neither bonnet nor 
shawl that evening. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. 

Although Polly Phybbs was not surprised, her fellow- 
servants were when, immediately after post-time. Miss 
Lynden announced that she and Dr. Lynden were going 
up to town for some days. Miss Phybbs, cognizant of 
the preparations that were going on the day before, was 
quite prepared for this ; but what she was not prepared 
for was that Nellie, in accordance with her father’s in- 
structions, should pay up their wages to date and a quar- 
ter in advance. A further cause of astonishment was 
that when she ventured to ask her mistress where let- 
ters were to be forwarded to, Miss Lynden should reply 
that such letters as came could wait. Their plans were 
still unformed, Nell said, and she would let Phybbs 
know where to communicate as soon as they were 
settled. 

At the station they separated. Miss Smerdon return- 
ing to Monmouthshire, the doctor and his daughter tak- 
ing a train to London. Frances was really very much 
distressed at parting with her friend. She did not un- 
derstand it all, but she had a vague idea that something 
dreadful had happened and that there was more trouble 
in store for Nell Lynden. 

What could be the meaning of this sudden and mys- 
terious journey? Nell herself had said more than once 
that she neither knew why nor where they were going; 

166 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. 


167 


and then Miss Smerdon’s thoughts wandered, as they 
were rather given to do, off to the Crimea, and she 
wondered if it were possible that was their destination. 
Could it be that the doctor, moved by the trouble in his 
daughter’s face, had suddenly determined to take her 
out to the East, and see if they could discover what 
had become of Hugh Fleming? Dr. Lynden, she knew, 
was an excellent linguist, perfectly au courant with the 
Continent and with singularly comprehensive knowledge 
of the Chersonese and adjoining countries. Had he 
been only more sympathetic on the subject of Nell’s 
engagement, she would have felt certain that was a 
solution of the mystery. But he had always shown 
himself so utterly indifferent to his daughter’s love 
affair that, had not Nell assured her to the contrary, she 
would have thought him unaware of its existence. He 
hardly ever mentioned Fleming’s name, and then in 
quite as casual a manner as that of any other of the 
officers of the regiment he had known during their stay 
in Manchester. 

^‘No,” thought Frances, ^‘the doctor’s very wise and 
very clever; he’s fond of Nell in his way, and he’s very 
kind to me. But he’s as dear and selfish an old thing 
as ever I met with, and it’s my private conviction that 
he not only wouldn’t care, but he’d rather prefer, not 
to see Hugh Fleming again. He’s an active and ener- 
getic man enough, and if he seems to live a lazy life 
at Manchester it’s not from natural indolence; but I 
don’t think he’d make a pilgrimage to find Hugh 
Fleming. And if it is not that, what on earth is it? 
The thing that seems to interest him most, now that 
hostilities have virtually ceased in the Crimea, is where 
they are to commence again. How I wish I knew what 


i68 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


they were all about there. If one could but see what 
they were all doing.” And then Miss Smerdon became 
guiltily conscious that this general anxiety about the 
doings of the Crimean army was a rather garbled state- 
ment of her desires, and that what Major Byng might 
be about, and what had become of Hugh Fleming, would 
have amply satisfied her curiosity. 

“ My darling Nell,” she murmured, “ I do trust things 
will all come right in the end for you ; but it will be 
dreadful not to hear from you — not even to know where 
you are.” 

The day after the doctor’s departure Police-constable 
Tarrant was informed, previous to going on duty, that 
he was wanted in the chief office. Tarrant prepared to 
obey the summons with no little discomposure His 
interviews with his superiors so far had generally re- 
sulted in somewhat sharp strictures upon his conduct, 
and he felt dubious as to whether commendation was 
likely to be his lot upon this occasion. He found the 
chief constable and Sergeant Evans sitting in conclave. 

‘‘ Tarrant, ” said the chief, “ your instructions have been 
for some time past to keep an eye upon Dr. Lynden’s 
house. Have you anything special to report concern- 
ing it?” 

Nothing,” replied Dick. “ I’ve mentioned that two 
or three suspicious characters had gone in at that very 
suspicious side door during the last month.” 

‘‘Yes,” replied the chief; “quite so, you mentioned 
that,” andherehethrewa significant glance at Sergeant 
Evans. “ By the way, you weren’t on the beat yester- 
day?” 

“No, sir,” rejoined Dick. 

“That wouldn’t matter much to Tarrant, sir,” re- 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. 


169 


marked Evans, with an amused though wicked look in 
bis eyes. He has exceptional means of knowing all 
that goes on in that house. Never mind, my man,’' he 
continued, as Dick looked apprehensively at the chief 
and evidently waxed very uncomfortable. ‘‘I’m not 
going to betray confidences. Men of the world don’t 
talk of these little affairs. The day before yesterday 
you were on duty there. You neither heard of nor 
noticed anything unusual going on in the family?” 

“ No,” was the reply. 

“That will do, Tarrant,” said the sergeant suavely; 
“you can’t do better than continue to keep an eye upon 
Dr. Lynden’s, and I shouldn’t wonder if we had to take 
you on the detective staff before long,” and there was 
a ring of irony in the concluding sentence that pene- 
trated even Dick’s armor of conceit. 

Police-constable Tarrant felt an uncomfortable con- 
viction that there was something wrong somewhere, 
and as he started for his beat, resolved to call at the 
house and tell Polly he must see her. By the time he 
had carried out his intention the doctor had been gone 
four-and-twenty hours. Miss Phybbs opened the door 
for him in person, and started with no little dismay 
upon seeing who the visitor was. She knew that it 
must come, and she had made up her mind to break it; 
but she felt sure that Dick would be very angry that he 
had not been informed of the doctor’s departure yester- 
day. She was a plucky and high-spirited young woman 
till it came to confronting her cousin Dick, but when 
he railed at her she -would merely hang her head and 
make no reply. What she saw in him — why she should 
bear tamely from him what she would stand from no 
one else — was inexplicable to all her friends. After all 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


170 

there is nothing new in it. Clever and pretty women 
from time immemorial have allowed themselves to be 
bullied by mean and contemptible men. 

‘‘ How are you, Polly?” said Dick. “ You must man- 
age to slip out for half an hour as soon as you can. I 
want to talk to you badly.” 

“ Well, Dick, you can talk here as soon as you like. 
Wont you come in? There’s nobody at home.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Dick, with eyes open 
wide from astonishment. “ You don’t mean I’m to come 
in, do you?” 

He had never ventured yet to cross the doctor’s 
threshold. 

“Yes, I do. They are all gone away — they went yes- 
terday morning,” replied Polly, setting her face hard in 
anticipation of the storm that was coming. 

“Gone away!” thundered Dick. “What’s the use of 
your keeping an eye on him, I should like to know, if 
you allow him to go away?” 

“Why, how could I prevent them?” 

“ Prevent them, indeed!” said the now angry Tarrant. 
“ Why, they couldn’t go away without your seeing them, 
I suppose. Wasn’t it clearly your duty to communicate 
with me. You don’t suppose the law would allow them 
to go away, do you?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Polly meekly. 
“ They told us suddenly yesterday morning that they 
were going to town, and in two or three hours they went. 
They kept me pretty busy, too, all the time. How was 
I to let you know?” 

It could hardly be expected that Polly would own that 
she had been pretty well convinced of their intentions 
twenty-four hours before that. 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. ♦ 171 

“ Bah !” returned Constable Tarrant. “ I’m disgusted 
with you. I looked upon you as a gal with gumption, 
and any gal with gumption would have known they were 
going away long before. But that’s the way with all 
you women. You’re all idleness, vanity, and conceit. 
Instead of keeping your eye on the doctor you were keep- 
ing it on your looking-glass. Instead of thinking of my 
interests you were thinking about the color of your 
bonnet strings.” 

Indeed, Dick — indeed, they gave us no notice,” said 
the girl, pleadingly. 

“ Oh, go away; it just makes me sick. All the men I 
used to read about when I was at school was always 
brought to grief by women. Now you’ve just gone and 
ruined my prospects, and I hope you’re satisfied.” 

It is not very likely that Mr. Tarrant’s prospects were 
impaired by his not having conveyed the meditated de- 
parture of the doctor to his superiors. He was a man of 
the kind that may be considered meritorious if they 
succeed in retaining the positions in life in which they 
started. 

No, Pplly, I’ve stuck to you through thick and thin, 
although I’ve known all along as you weren’t a woman 
calculated to help a fellow along in the world. But this 
settles it. I cast you off now forever.” 

There was one part of Mr. Tarrant’sspeech which was 
undoubtedly true. He had stuck to Polly for some years, 
and it would have been very much to that young woman’s 
advantage if he had not. Now her opportunity had 
come. He offered her -release, but do you suppose that 
he thought she would take advantage of it — that she 
would recognize that she was well quit of a lazy, worth- 
less, contemptible hound? Not she. She did just as 


172 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


such women will ; she metaphorically clutched this 
worthless idol of hers from what can be only adequately 
described as sheer cussedness. She shed tears and im- 
plored Dick to forgive her, and Police-constable Tarrant, 
after bullying her for half an hour, finally condescended 
to kiss, forgive, and borrow half a sovereign from her. 
He then stalked forth to resume his official duties, actu- 
ally ruminating whether Sergeant Evans was aware of 
the doctor’s departure! 

Sergeant Evans had acquired his information by sheer 
accident. An acquaintance happened to witness the 
doctor’s exodus, mentioning it as a bit of casual gossip, 
and the sergeant was quite aware that there were no 
grounds whatever for interfering with him in any way. 
The man was eccentric — an enigma, if you like; bvit 
Evans could not honestly say that he suspected him to 
be a coiner. He had no earthly right to search the 
doctor’s residence, but he felt that it would be a great 
satisfaction to him if he could have a look through that 
laboratory of which Constable Tarrant had given such a 
glowing description. It is true that Constable Tarrant 
had never seen it, but that did not hinder him from giv- 
ing a fictitious account of it, and the difficulty he had 
about obtaining admittance. 

It was merely a whim, the sergeant thought, as he 
turned the thing over in his mind ; but still it was a 
whim it should be easy to gratify. He had already a 
suspicion that Mr. Tarrant’s accuracy was not quite to 
be depended on ; but if there was a young woman in the 
house who was a bit sweet upon him, he ought surely to 
have no difficulty in persuading her to let himself and a 
friend have a peep into the mysterious chamber. 

“Workshop of a great chemist — sanctum of a cele- 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. ^ 1 73 

brated man ! and all that sort of flummery. Myself a 
disciple — humble admirer of the famous Dr. Lynden. 
Yes, that’s the caper. Tarrant’s not very bright, but 
he surely ought to have no difficulty in working that. 
It isn’t business, I know; but we’ve all our weaknesses, 
and I really am curious to know what is the doctor’s 
little game.” 

The sergeant lost no time in explaining to Dick what 
was expected of him, and in a few days, by a judicious 
mixture of coaxing and bull3dng, that worthy extorted 
a promise from Phybbs that she would allow them to 
look into the laboratory, upon the condition that they 
didn’t pull things about. To this Dick willingly pledged 
himself, and at once informed his superior officer of his 
success. Miss Phybbs’s time being now at her own dis- 
posal, it was settled that they should proceed to the doc- 
tor’s house the next day. There Polly received them, 
and was favored with a somewhat fervid rhapsody on her 
master’s transcendent talents by Sergeant Evans. 

Rigidly as the doctor had kept the door of the labora- 
tory locked while at home, it struck Polly as singular 
that he should have left the key almost ostentatiously 
on his dressing-table on going away. She led the way, 
and the two men followed. Tarrant felt confident that 
they were on the verge of discoveries, and that Evans’s 
practised eye would speedily seize upon indications of 
coining. Polly threw open the door, and Tarrant, to 
whom the fittings of a laboratory presented themselves 
for the first time, had no doubt that his suspicions were 
fully confirmed, and that all the necessaries for coining 
on a large scale met his gaze. He was about to appeal 
to the sergeant when a prompt frown warned him to 
hold his tongue. Evans* in his assumed character of a 


174 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


profound admirer of the great man, threw himself into a 
quaint arm-chair and requested them not to speak to him. 

Tarrant, meanwhile, went fussing about, peering into 
crucibles, peeping into retorts, and poking his nose into 
drawers, under the profound impression that he was 
playing the detective officer to the life. The sergeant 
never moved from his chair, but his restless eyes roved 
incessantly round the room. His lip curled contemptu- 
ously as he thought, What an old fool I am ; there’s not 
a sign of it. Why on earth should one imagine that he 
was other than what he professed — a man with a fad for 
chemistry, and who is occasionally visited by friends 
with similar tastes. Never recollect hearing, though, 
of a lady addicted to smart bonnets being given that way. 
Odd! To be sure it’s no business of mine,” and here his 
eye fell upon the empty grate, where it was apparent a 
considerable number of letters and papers had been re- 
cently burnt. Some few, indeed, yet remained. The 
officer rose from his chair, and seeing that his compan- 
ions were occupied with each other, picked up the half- 
burnt papers and slipped them into his pocket. Then 
quietly returning to his seat, he once more let his eyes 
rove round the apartment. 

Polly was far too deeply interested in Dick’s investi- 
gations to think of anything else. He had told her that 
the crucibles, etc., were all conclusive evidence of the 
manufacture of spurious money. 

Yes,” he said; all we want to do now is to find two 
or three bits of bad money, and then the case is complete 
and it will be I, Constable Richard Tarrant, who will 
have led to the conviction of the most notorious forger 
of the day.” 

Lor!” said Polly, I should never have guessed what 


THE LYNDENS LEVANT. 


175 


all these pots and bottles were for. But he don’t seem 
much interested, Dick,” and she cast a look towards the 
sergeant, who had risen from his chair and strolled to- 
wards the writing table, a waste-paper basket standing 
near which had attracted his attention. On seeing that 
he was observed, the sergeant, presumably in his con- 
fusion, dropped his hat, and when he had recovered it 
the few torn letters that the basket contained were no 
longer there. 

Evans now seemed to have worshipped sufficiently at 
the shrine of the great man for whom he expressed such 
reverence, and thanking Polly profusely for having ad- 
mitted him to the workshop of the famous Dr. Lynden, 
intimated that it was time to go. Tarrant promptly re- 
sponded to the hint, and the pair were quickly in the 
street. 

‘‘ Pretty strong that,” quoth Constable Tarrant exult- 
ingly. I should think there’s enough evidence there to 
convict — ” 

‘‘You of being the biggest fool in the force!” quoth 
Sergeant Evans, with more brevity than politeness, and 
with that he left Mr. Tarrant to his own reflections. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


WINTER QUARTERS. 

The great siege was over, and the army, like the doc- 
tor, was speculating and wondering what next. One 
thing seemed pretty clear: that the belligerents who 
were round Sebastopol both desired repose after the tre- 
mendous struggle. It was pretty confidently believed 
that, although there might be no armistice, there would 
certainly be no further hostilities until the spring came 
round again. 

Our old friends the — th had left the lines they had 
lived in so long, and marched down to join the newly 
formed second brigade of the Highland Division which 
was occupying the Vanoutka Pass. What a change it 
was, and how they all revelled in it, after the hot dusty 
plateau ! To sit outside the huts here and smoke, and 
look down the gorge, thickly wooded with scrub, which 
led to the glittering waters of the Black Sea ! Or to get 
on the ponies, canter through the Pass, and picnic in the 
lovely valley of Baidar, and reflect how hard it was upon 
the luckless Tartars who had to evacuate their pretty 
village therein. All that was luxury. There were no 
trenches nowadays. As Tom Byng remarked : It seems 
as if we’d all come up here for the holidays, and had 
nothing to do but to enjoy themselves.” 

To a regiment worked as this had been such easy duties 
176 


WINTER QUARTERS. 


177 


as road-making or carrying up boards and stores over 
the hill from Balaklava was child’s play. They were in 
the early days of October now — bright, clear, sunshiny 
days, with just that touch of crispness in the air which 
always characterizes the “ chill ” month of the year. 
What bathing parties there were, to ride down that 
rugged gorge after parade and take a header into the 
Euxine ! How those recreants who voted it was getting 
too cold were chaffed and chivied into their huts, only 
to reappear with their towels in compliance with popular 
opinion. There was little fear of the army not having 
a good time this winter. Stores were in abundance. 
Not a regiment that did not bid fair to be well hutted 
before the winter set in ; and as for kit, it looked as if 
each British soldier would require a bullock trunk to 
himself whenever it came to moving again. 

Filled with remorse for the sufferings the army had 
undergone the first winter, the nation was determined 
there should be no recurrence of such in the second. The 
Government had perhaps gone rather into the opposite 
extreme, and the private soldier was served with what 
his officers speedily determined to be an unfortunate 
superfluity of clothing. In grateful acknowledgment 
of the care they were taking of him the soldier had 
a knack of putting all his warm clothing on at once ; and 
when a man is encumbered with a fur-lined jacket, a 
great-coat, and a waterproof overall, he is not so useful 
on a working party as he might be. A wonderful find, 
too, had occurred to the — th. They had discovered in 
the gorge before -mentioned two large stacks of cedar, 
chopped up into logs suitable for firewood. All the 
previous winter the ground had been in the possession 
of the Russians, and it had presumably been cut and 
12 


178 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


stacked by them, and abandoned when they withdrew 
their troops. 

Tom Byng, who occupies a hut slightly detached 
from what might be designated the ‘‘ Officers’ Barracks, ” 
is smoking a pipe in front of his dwelling in all the 
abandon of his shirt-sleeves, when his attention is 
aroused by his name being bandied about in the huts 
just qelow. Glancing that way, he sees a Cossack with 
long lance and a wiry little steed, and wonders not a 
little how he came there. He certainly didn’t come 
down the pass, or Tom should have seen him ; he must 
have come up the road from Kamara. Next it becomes 
evident from the shouts of his brother officers that the 
business of the Cossack is with himself. Tom accord- 
ingly walks down towards the mess hut, but the easi- 
ness of his attire makes the Cossack doubtful as to his 
being a field-officer of the British army. Reassured, 
however, by some of those more correctly attired, he sal- 
utes and hands Tom a letter in a woman’s handwriting. 

How the deuce did he come here?” asked Tom of his 
brother officers as he took the missive. 

‘‘Well, he must have come down Mackenzie’s 
Heights,” vSaid one of them; “for he’s got a safe con- 
duct from the commanding officer of the Sardinians on 
Traktir Bridge. There is nobody can make him un- 
derstand a word we say, though we’ve tried him in all 
the tongues we know. We even had Mickey Flinn up 
to act as interpreter,” continued the speaker laughing, 
“on the strength of his having declared our friend 
there to be a Kerry man. However, his mission ap- 
parently is to bring you that note.” 

Tom tore it open, glanced hastily over it, and then 
gave a loud hurrah. 


WINTER QUARTERS. 


179 


Here you are, you fellows!” he exclaimed; ‘‘the 
best bit of news that’s come our way for ever so long, 
Hugh Fleming’s all right — at least, when I say all right, 
he’s alive and there’s a hope he’ll pull through. Here 
you, Flinn,” he continued, singling out Mickey from a 
group of soldiers, who were watching the proceedings 
from a respectful distance. “ I don’t know whether he’s 
a Kerry man or not, but give him something to eat and 
drink and take care of him,” and the Cossack quickly 
interpreting the signs that meat and drink awaited him, 
resigned himself at once to the charge of Mickey Flinn 
and his comrades. Tom then turned into the mess hut, 
followed by three or four of his brother officers. 

“ Fleming don’t write himself, ” said Brydon, “ it’s not 
his handwriting surely.” 

“ No, ” replied Tom ; “ my correspondent is a lady. I’ll 
read you her letter. She writes in French, which though 
I can’t speak I can read.” 

“ October 4th. 

“ Monsieur, — I write at the request of Captain Flem- 
ing, of your regiment, to inform you that we now hope 
he will do well. He was badly wounded in the last ter- 
rible day of the siege — a day the horrors of which I shall 
never forget. Like many other ladies, I have devoted 
myself to nursing the wounded ; but ah, monsieur ! on 
that dreadful day what could we do? Our streets were 
strewn with the dead and dying, our hospitals were full 
to overflowing. In the retreat which followed some of 
our wounded were sent across the harbor, and some were 
sent to Batch! Serai. Ah, such a terrible march ! and 
it was pitiful to see how our poor patients suffered. 
Amongst them waa Captain Fleming. The uniform told 
me he belonged to the same regiment as yourself. It 
was enough— a life for a life. I had vowed weeks before 
that if ever any one of that regiment fell to my care, if 
devoted nursing could save him he should have it. 


l8o BEATRICE AND BENEDICiC. 

‘‘ Ah, monsieur, I owe you a great debt of gratitude, 
and, for your sake, the whole of your gallant corps. You 
saved the life of my only brother. You robbed him of 
the results of his daring enterprise, but you saved his 
life. Captain Fleming has hovered between life and 
death for weeks, but our doctors now hold forth hopes. 
It will be my pride to restore him to you cured, when 
our rulers permit. He will write to you himself as soon 
as he is able, but he is too weak to hold a pen at present. 

“ Accept, monsieur, the profoundest assurances of my 
gratitude and friendship. 

‘‘ Yours very faithfully, Marie Ivanhoff.” 

‘‘Well, ’’said Brydon, as Byng finished, “I’m awfully 
glad Hugh Fleming is alive and likely to get all right 
again. You seem to have unwittingly done him a good 
turn in saving Ivanhoff ’s life, whoever Ivanhoff may be. 
Do you recollect anything about it?” 

“Oh, yes,” said Tom; “I never knew his name, but 
the writer of this can only be the sister of the spy I took 
that day in the advance. I remember now he inquired 
particularly what my name was before he was marched 
off to headquarters.” 

“ I suppose they’ve got him in prison somewhere down 
at Constantinople,” said Brydon. 

“ I fancy so,” said Byng. “ He was shipped off from 
this to be detained as a prisoner.” 

“Fleming’s very fortunate,” said the surgeon of the 
regiment, who had been listening to the discussion. 
“We have seen what the inside of Sebastopol is like: 
the place literally reeks of carnage. Any fellow badly 
wounded the last few days of the siege stood but a poor 
chance of pulling through there. Batchi Serai I believe 
to be a charming place. I only hope we shall have a 
chance to see it next spring.” 


WINTER QUARTERS. 


l8l 


‘‘That’ll depend, doctor,” said Brydon, with a quiet 
smile, “how many of us get up Mackenzie Heights. 
The Russians will very likely set us a pretty stiff nut 
to crack there.” 

And then a lively discussion ensued as to the direction 
the advance would probably be made next year, in the 
midst of which Tom Byng suddenly recollected that it 
was incumbent upon him to write a letter to Hugh and 
also another of thanks to Mademoiselle Ivanhoff for all 
her care and attention preparatory to the return of the 
warrior of the Don to his own people. These ready, the 
Cossack was soon discovered fraternizing with the little 
knot of soldiers under the presidency of Mickey Flinn, 
and after grinning a farewell to his entertainers, he 
departed in the direction of the Tchernaya with Tom’s 
missives. 

One of the first things that occurred to Byng after his 
emissary had departed was that he must now write to 
Miss Lynden, and tell her about Hugh. He had rather 
expected to hear from that young lady, and singularly 
enough had been a little disappointed that he had not 
done so. Why he should be anxious to hear from 
Nellie it would be hard to say, but that her letters usu- 
ally contained some allusion to Frances Smerdon may 
perhaps account for it. 

“They are all alike,” he muttered, puffing savagely 
at his pipe. “ There’s Hugh, now he’s got a bit round, 
fretting his heart out about that girl, and she — well, 
she’s apparently resigned and prepared for the worst. 
Shouldn’t wonder if she will feel as disappointed as Jim 
Lockwood vowed the regiment all were at my coming 
to life again. Daresay she thinks one sweetheart at 
home worth half a dozen in the Crimea. There, what 


i 82 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


a brute I am to go on abusing as nice a girl as ever 
I met! Don’t I know she’s been crying her eyes out 
about Hugh? I don’t know what’s come to me of 
late. Getting sick of the whole beastly business, I sup- 
pose, or else my liver’s out of order. Now, you fellows,” 
he continued, addressing two or three of his brother 
officers who were lounging in front of the mess hut, 
who’s for a canter to the Phoros Pass and back?” 

Tom Byng’s discontent with womankind would have 
been very much modified had he made a different reply 
to Miss Smerdon’s note. Frances only wanted encour- 
agement to open a very warm correspondence with Major 
Byng ; but he was not now likely to hear from her, or 
even of her, again. He couldn’t guess that Miss Lyn- 
den and her father had disappeared from all knowledge 
of their old friends, and even that the letter that he had 
just written to her was destined to be many a long day 
before it reached her hands. Indeed, Tom Byng was 
fated to be kept in profound ignorance of all that was 
happening to his late friends, not only until he reached 
England, but even for some time afterwards. 

They had a glorious ride that afternoon through the 
valleys of Vanoutka and Baidar, right away through that 
quaint rocky arch which forms the Phoros Pass, till they 
stood on the winding road on the edge of the cliffs that 
leads to Aloutka, with the Black Sea shimmering in 
the light of the setting sun like a placid lake at their 
feet. Who could have thought, to look at that now 
tranquil piece of water, that it could have wrought such 
wild work as it did the previous November, when it had 
thrown big ships about as if they had been corks, and 
sent the “ Black Prince, ” crammed with urgently wanted 
stores, pitilessly to the bottom? 


WINTER QUARTERS. 


183 


Then they turned the ponies about and rode home- 
wards, with an assurance very different from that of 
the bulk of the army the preceding October — to wit, that 
they would find a plentiful and comfortable dinner 
awaiting them. 

“Well,” said Tom Byng, as they entered the mess 
hut, “this is a considerable improvement upon what 
we know our fellows had to go through last winter. 
Talk about campaigning! It would trouble you to im- 
prove much upon this, even at home. Show me a mess- 
room in England where the sybarites have got a 
fireplace like that, and with cedar logs burning in it.” 

“Yes,” said Brydon, “the room quite smells as if we 
were a disappointed sketching party burning our pen- 
cils. What’s dining on silver to dining with such appe- 
tites as we’ve got? And then to think that we’ve done 
with all that confounded trench-work.” 

“ Yes,” rejoined Tom, “whatever may be before us 
next spring, I devoutly hope we shant be in for another 
siege. It’s our first experience of the real thing, and 
we’ll trust the fighting will take some other form in 
future.” 

The mess hut of the — th was indeed a noble apart- 
ment for a regiment in the field. Four officers’ quar- 
ters had been thrown together to form it, and a large 
brick fireplace and chimney was built in at one side. 
Grate there was none ; this was a large open chimney- 
place such as you may see in old castles and country 
houses in England, meant only for the burning of wood, 
and therein flamed, night and day, two or three mighty 
cedar logs. These were constantly replenished, for 
that fire was attended with as much devotion through 
the long winter as if it had been the sacred flame of a 


184 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Parsee temple. Many were the banquets and revels 
that took place in that wooden hut. 

If the regiment had not shared in the fasting of the 
previous winter, they were well to the fore in the feast- 
ing of this, and an invitation to dine at the mess of the 
— th was a thing that quite warranted the rejection of 
most previous engagements. Stores were plentiful at 
Balaklava, and they were no great distance from that 
place; while the mess committee had thrown them- 
selves heartily into their work, and developed a pretty 
taste for foraging of which they had hitherto been 
unsuspected. 

The days draw in. Christmas is creeping nearer. 
The cold increases, and the first snowstorms come driv- 
ing across the Steppes, as if to warn them that the last 
winter was by no means exceptional. But what are cold 
and snow to men with plenty to eat, lots of warm cloth- 
ing, good fires and warm huts? 

Assuredly the army made light of its troubles that 
winter. There were private theatricals and lots of 
entertainments. A popular man might find his engage- 
ment list as well filled as in the London season. The 
soldiers, too, waxed fat and healthy ; the hospitals were 
almost empty ; and when Luders saw, as he did when 
the spring came round, those twenty - eight thousand 
Englishmen march past on the plateau of Sebastopol, he 
might well look with admiration on them. They were all 
grit. All the weakly stuff had died out of them. What 
was left was the seasoned wood — the genuine article. 

That the genuine article drank hard I am afraid must 
be admitted. I dare say they passed the wine cup pretty 
freely at Capua. At all events they did in the Crimea. 
British philanthropy, ever on the qui zw, was naturally 


WINTER QUAR’l'ERS. 


i8s 

very much exercised at this, and several schemes were 
mooted for the more profitable expenditure of the sol- 
diers’ money. One philanthropic watch-maker, indeed, 
was so moved at these rumors that he suggested the 
superfluous pay of each soldier should be utilized for 
the purchase of one of his firm’s silver lever mounted 
watches. This proposal w'as not cordially met, though, 
as one of the doggrel bards of the camp sang at the 
time : 

“ Who can doubt of the chime 
Of our marking time 
When it’s done by a Jones’s watch?” 

Perhaps the climate pulled them through, perhaps 
the healthiness of the life they led defied injury to the 
constitution ; but at all events, if they drank as hard as 
that famous army of Flanders swore, they throve upon 
it, and were uncommonly healthy. 

Tom Byng never got a line from Miss Lynden as the 
winter wore away, and it puzzled him sorely ; but that 
he did not hear again from Hugh Fleming puzzled him 
still more, especially as he had once or twice taken an 
advantage of a flag of truce going across the Russian 
lines to forward a note to him. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 

A LITTLE before Christmas an event occurred which Dr. 
Lynden had foreseen as likely, and which he had pre- 
dicted might count for a good deal in increasing the 
prospects of peace. Kars had capitulated, its gallant 
defenders having at last been starved into submission. 
Mouravieff had clung to his prey with the tenacity of a 
bull -dog, and his perseverance had been at length re- 
warded. The utter failure of Omar Pasha to come to 
the relief of Sir Fenwick Williams gave cause to much 
angry feeling both at home and in the Crimea. There 
was a prevalent idea in the English army, that the de- 
fenders of Kars had been politically sacrificed, that had 
the hands of the Turkish general not been tied the de- 
fence would not have been in vain, and that he could 
have compelled the Russians to raise the siege before 
the garrison was reduced to extremities. Be that as it 
may, the Russians could now, at all events, point to the 
capture of Kars as a set-off to the loss of Sebastopol. 
There are people to this day who believe that salve to 
Russia’s honor did much towards bringing the war to a 
conclusion. 

With the spring came councils and congresses, much 
diplomacy and many protocols, the first result of which 
was an armistice. With the spring, too, came much 
drilling and smartening up of regiments that perpetual 

i86 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 


187 


trench duty had made slovenly of appearance. Field 
days on a large scale became of constant occurrence, 
and the whole army speedily resumed the appearance it 
might have worn had it been brought together in Eng- 
land, only with a workmanlike look about it that old 
campaigners could thoroughly appreciate. Advantage 
was taken of the armistice by officers on both sides 
to visit each others’ lines, and here the English, with 
the insatiable restlessness of their nation, speedily out- 
vied both their Allies and the Russians. The privilege 
was used sparingly by both the latter, but the British 
officer was emphatically all over the place. ” He made 
his appearance at Batchi Serai, made pilgrimages to 
visit the scene of the battle of the Alma, he penetrated 
to the caves of Inkerman, and the limits of his travel 
seemed only bounded by the capabilities of a Crimean 
pony. As Brydon remarked, ‘‘ No wonder our fellows 
are restless. We all feel as if we’d been strictly confined 
to our own parish for months. It’s quite a luxury to 
break out and see how our neighbors get along.” 

“ Just so,” rejoined Byng, and I tell you what it is, I 
vote we start for Batchi Serai to-morrow morning. We 
can go there and back in a day if we start early and take 
it easy.” 

Done with you!” said Brydon. “ It’s a longish day 
for the ponies, but the wiry little brutes’ll do it easy 
enough. That dash of Barb blood they most of them 
have pulls ’em through.” 

So it was finally settled that what Byng called a 
reconnoissance ” should be made next day, and that 
those, two should ride to Batchi Serai with a view to 
prospecting for an expedition on a considerably larger 
scale a week or two later. 


i88 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ We’ll make up a party, you know, ” said Tom. ‘‘ Half 
a dozen of us will get a week’s leave, take up tents and 
servants and pack-animals, and make a big picnic of it.” 

“Capital!” replied Brydon. “We’re all cunning in 
camp life now, and we ought to have a splendid time of 
it. There’s one thing, you can depend on the weather 
out here. When fine weather’s due it’s fine, though it 
can be nasty enough in winter, too.” 

“ I wonder whether we shall pick up any news of 
Hugh Fleming in Batchi Serai. Most of these Russian 
fellows speak French.” 

“Which we don’t,” rejoined Brydon laughing, “so 
that wont much facilitate intercourse between us. But 
it don’t matter. Fleming has doubtless been sent away 
far into the interior, or we should have heard from him 
before this. He’s as likely as not at St. Petersburg.” 

A little after six the next morning the pair crossed 
the Traktir Bridge, and having cantered across the val- 
ley made their way up Mackenzie Heights. It was a 
lovely spring morning, and the ponies seemed to revel 
in the fresh air and sunshine to the full as much as 
their riders ; and when they halted on the banks of the 
Belbek, and produced from their haversacks materials 
for an early luncheon, Brydon declared he had never 
been so hungry in his life, while Tom said he felt like 
a schoolboy home for the holidays. 

After a brief halt, they resumed their journey, and a 
little before noon entered the old capital of the Tartar 
kings. The first thing to find, undoubtedly, was an inn 
at which they could stay and rest their ponies. The 
unflinching little brutes had carried them well, but they 
had seven-and-twenty miles to go back, and required a 
good long bait before being called on to fulfil that task. 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 


189 


As for their riders, they had the town to see, such as it 
was. They were not long before they stumbled on one 
of these men who swarm around the shores of the Med- 
iterranean and in Asiatic Turkey — men whose national- 
ity it is impossible to define, and who seem to speak, 
more or less, all the tongues of Europe. They are 
vaguely described as coming from the Levant, and from 
bankers to couriers, from restaurant waiters to promis- 
cuous loafers and vagabonds, seem never at a loss about 
picking up a living. Some of them drive carriages, but 
most of them, like the man who so speedily became alive 
to the requirements of the two British officers, though 
never at a loss for a job, seem incapable of taking up 
steady employment. 

Their self-constituted guide quickly found our friends 
a suitable inn, and then, in obedience to their behests, 
conducted them through the principal parts of the town. 
There seemed to have been a touch of the Moor about 
the old Mongolian race before they had succumbed to the 
hordes of the Muscovite, as evidenced by the verandas 
of the houses and the large tree-shaded gardens in which 
they were built. You would have said it was a pretty 
town lying at the bottom of a valley, well sheltered 
from the bitter blasts of the Steppes ; but nothing more. 
The old palace of the Khans, though in excellent repair, 
struck Byng and Brydon as hardly imposing enough a 
home for such powerful rulers as the Tartan princes 
had been in the hey-day of their power. In the beauti- 
ful gardens around it, a Russian band was playing a set 
of German valses, while strolling about, or sitting on 
chairs, were numbers of officers in every variety of unir 
form, from the Horse Artillery of the Imperial Guard 
down to the sturdy linesman. There were to be seen 


190 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


a few French tiniforms, with a tolerably good mixture 
of the English scarlet. Ladies, richly dressed, were 
scattered about amongst the chairs, and were evidently 
in great request with the militaires fortunate enough 
to be acquainted with them. 

‘‘Well,” said Brydon, “these fellows are all brushed 
up. They show small signs of having been through 
such times as they must have seen the last few weeks 
in Sebastopol.” 

“Ho!” rejoined Byng, “here comes a poor fellow, 
though, who still bears signs of having been well in the 
thick of it,” and as he spoke, a Russian officer, whose 
face bore traces of severe illness, limped past with the 
assistance of a stick, and raised his cap with grave cour- 
tesy to the two Englishmen. They found themselves 
cordially received by their late enemies, who not only 
expressed delight at seeing them but great regret at 
hearing that they were not to spend a few days there. 
One thing, however, a gray-headed colonel with a de- 
cidedly Kalmuck cast of countenance insisted on — that 
they should join him in a ponche after the music was 
finished. 

“Ha! the galope remarked one of the other 

officers. The band struck up the “ Stiirm Marsch,” and 
Tom could hardly repress a slight start as the well-known 
air once more fell upon his ears. It recalled the night 
of that ball at Manchester, when he first thought he had 
good hopes of winning Frances Smerdon’s love. How 
the thought had grown stronger week by week during 
his stay in that place, and how before he had made 
up his mind to speak, the route had come, and he had 
determined that was no time for such nonsense. How 
he had sternly resolved that no love-making should es- 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 


19I 

cape his lips, but that he would sail for the East leaving 
the girl unfettered, and put his fate to the test, should 
he come safe home again. When he first heard of Miss 
Smerdon’s sarcastic remarks he congratulated himself 
on that decision ; but he was not quite sure about it now. 
The letter she had written to him when she thought he 
was seriously wounded had modified his views of her con- 
duct. He was not at all certain but he had made a con- 
founded fool of himself by his Spartan reticence. You 
can’t expect a girl to take the initiative in an affair of 
this kind. 

“ Do you suppose, sir, 

That the rose, sir. 

Picks itself to deck your breast.” 


However, it was all over now, and his reflections 
were suddenly interrupted by Brydon’s ejaculating: 
“By heavens! Tom, look there.” Following the direc- 
tion of Brydon’s gesture, Tom’s eyes fell upon a pretty 
young lady, smartly dressed, with the most. coquettish 
of bonnets upon her head, who was exchanging saluta- 
tions right and left with the Russian officers, and who 
had for her cavalier none other than Hugh Fleming, 
looking as well as ever he had done in his life. 

“ Monsieur recognizes some one,” said one of the Rus- 
sians talking to Brydon. “Ah, yes, your compatriot. 
You know him, I presume.” 

“Yes, he belongs to my regiment,” said Brydon. 
“ He’s a camarade, a brother officer, what do you call 
it, frere officer?” 

“Brother officer,’' replied the Russian politely in 
English. 

“Oh lord, Tom!” said Brydon in an undertone, “it’s 


192 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


very convenient, but rather humiliating, that these fel- 
lows speak better English than we do. ” 

“Yes,” said Byng, “Captain Fleming is one of our- 
selves. May I ask who is the very pretty lady with 
whom he is walking?” 

“ That is Mademoiselle Ivanhoff. Captain Fleming 
has been very fortunate. Many of us would have taken 
his wound to have so fair a nurse.” 

“Well, he certainly don’t look as if he had anything 
the matter with him now,” said Brydon. 

“Oh, no,” rejoined the Russian, “he’s as well as any 
of us ; but he’s a prisoner on parole. Ma foi^ ” he added, 
with a slight sneer, “ they need not have asked for his 
parole, mademoiselle’s chains would be quite sufficient. ” 

“Well, we must go across and shake hands with 
Hugh,” said Byng. “ Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, you said. 
I once had the honor of meeting her brother under rather 
peculiar circumstances.” 

Sacre tonnerre!'" exclaimed the Russian, “then it 
was you who took Alexis Ivanhoff prisoner before the 
eyes of the whole army. It was superbe^ niagnifique ! 
but I should think, monsieur, the exploit would hardly 
recommend you to Mademoiselle Ivanhoff,” and so say- 
ing the Russian slightly raised his hat and turned on 
his heel. 

But Hugh had caught sight of them and was spring- 
ing forward to meet them when he was momentarily 
checked by his fair companion. Glancing at the English 
officers she said something rapidly to him, and in an- 
other moment Hugh was cordially shaking hands with 
Byng and Brydon. 

“ By Jove !’' he exclaimed, “ how glad I am to see you 
fellows again! Of course you’ve heard all about me — 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 


193 


how I was taken prisoner and would have died, I verily 
believe, if it hadn’t been for Marie — Mademoiselle Ivan- 
hoff, I mean. She called herself Sister Marie, you 
know,” he added a little confusedly, ‘‘during the time 
she was a hospital nurse.” 

“And you’re all sound again now?” said Brydon. 

“ Fit as a fiddle,” rejoined Hugh. 

“ But come and be introduced to my kind nurse. She 
is very anxious too see you, Tom, as you may well 
imagine.” 

Now this was a point upon which Tom had consider- 
able misgivings. ' He had his doubts beforehand, even 
when he had read that letter of “ Sister Marie’s,” and as 
he looked at the haughty, resolute face of the young lady 
it struck him there was a strong dash of her brother’s 
spirit about her, and that the remark of his late Russian 
acquaintance was probably a good deal nearer the truth. 
However, he had no time for further reflection, for by 
this Hugh was introducing him to Mademoiselle Ivan- 
hoff. That lady extended her hand graciously to him 
as she said with a smile, “ Ah, Major Byng and I are 
not like people meeting for the first time. Is it not so? 
I have heard much of him, not only from Captain Flem- 
ing but also from my brother. Alexis owes his life to 
you, monsieur.” 

Tom murmured some commonplace remark to the 
effect that any one else in his place would have done 
the same, but even as he spoke he thought there was a 
slight curl in mademoiselle’s lip, a wicked flash in her 
eye, and though She had naturally a very sweet voice - 
its tone jarred upon his ear, as if fair words were spoken 
in mockery. Still, the young lady could be very win- 
ning when she chose, and for the next few minutes there 

13 


194 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


was no doubt she exerted all her fascinations to subju- 
gate Tom, and at the end of that time he had come to 
the conclusion that he was a suspicious old beast and 
beginning to lose faith in every one. He had forgotten 
that Hugh in ordinary courtesy could not indulge his 
thirst for information concerning letters, camp news, 
etc., until mademoiselle had so to speak finished with 
him, and mademoiselle entirely monopolized him till the 
band was over and the gardens rapidly thinning. Then 
she turned to address a few courteous words to Brydon, 
and explained that she was desolee at hearing they 
were returning to their lines that night. 

“ I was in hopes that you were about to pass a few 
days here, when I should have had the opportunity of 
really making your acquaintance. But you will come 
up again in a week or two, wont you? Major Byng 
says it’s to be so, and I shall hope to see more of you 
then.” 

“No letters for me!” exclaimed Hugh; “and yet, 
like the dear good fellow you are, you say you wrote to 
Nellie and told her that I was all right.” 

“There is no letter for you from Miss Lynden,” re- 
plied Byng. “ She wrote to me, as I tell you, in the 
first instance, but I’ve not heard from her since I wrote 
to tell her you were all right. I can tell you no more.” 

“ It’s deuced odd,” said Hugh, as he knit his brows, 
“ I can’t understand it.” 

“Captain Fleming,” said Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, “I 
must once more claim your services. You promised to 
be my escort to Madame Radski’s tea.” 

“Yes, it’s time to say good-by,” remarked Brydon. 
“You see, Tom, our friends are waiting for us.” 

“ Ah, some of our officers are going to entertain you,” 


MADEMOISELLE IVANHOFF. 


195 


said Mademoiselle Ivanhoff. I will, therefore, say 
good-by. Remember you are not to be long before 
you come to see us again,” and she bowed to the two 
Englishmen. 

“Well, good-by, Hugh,” said Byng. “I had hoped 
you’d have seen us through this ponche,'" 

“If that’s it,” laughed mademoiselle, “I’ll release 
you. Captain Fleming. I cannot well go to this tea 
without an escort, but that is of no consequence.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Hugh, laughing, “we cannot have 
your tea sacrificed for a ponche. I will take you to 
Madame Radski’s, and I shall have lots of time to say 
good-by to my old comrades here afterwards,” and with 
that Hugh walked off with- Mademoiselle Ivanhoff. 

“ I fancy the Russian fellow’s about right,” said Bry- 
don, grinning, “ and that Master Hugh is in the toils. 
We live and learn, Tom, and it strikes me that being 
taken prisoner is a long way off the worst thing that can 
happen to one in campaigning.” 

“ Hugh looks like making a confounded fool of him- 
self,” rejoined Byng sulkily. “As you know, he is en- 
gaged to as nice a girl as ever stepped, at home ; and 
as for ‘Sister Marie, ’ forsooth, she’s a deal too good-look- 
ing a young woman to have prancing about a hospital. 
I could laugh outright when I think of the mental pic- 
ture I drew of her at Vanoutka when I got her letter. 
There’s not much of the hospital nurse left about her 
now. Well, come on. Heaven send us safe through 
this ponche^ for we’ve a long ride before us, and these 
Russian fellows can drink vodka by the gallon without 
its affecting their heads.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


BATCHI SERAI. 

Byng^s anticipations, however, proved groundless. 
Their entertainers quite recognized they had a good 
many miles to ride that night, and had no intention of 
challenging them to a drinking bout. There was no at- 
tempt to press them to do more than drink a stirrup- 
cup. Caviare and brandy were scattered about the 
tables of the restaurant, but the staple of the entertain- 
ment consisted of bottled stout, which was dispensed to 
them in wine glasses and forcibly recalled to their minds 
Mr. Swiveller’s celebrated dictum on the tasting of malt 
liquors. It was not till they had purchased their experi- 
ence on a subsequent visit that they realized the delicate 
intentions of their entertainers. In the eyes of a for- 
eigner, an Englishman is regarded as a beer-drinking 
creature. At all events, he was in the days of which I 
am writing, and when they produced the stout, the Rus- 
sians were producing their choicest vintage. Bottled 
stout was dearer in their lines than champagne, and 
sold currently at twelve shillings a bottle. 

However, the ponche was soon over, and the pair 
were once more jogging along on their homeward way. 
Each man was smoking and immersed in his own reflec- 
tions. Tom could not help thinking of his parting with 
Alexis Ivanhoff. He had not thought so much of it at 
the time, but the sister recalled the brother’s manner 

196 


BATCHI SERAI. 


197 


vividly to his recollection. Ivanhoff had asked him his 
name, declared that he owed him his life, and, though 
it was not likely to be in his power to repay the obliga- 
tion, in the hurly-burly of a big war like this there was 
no knowing what might happen. Still Tom thought 
there had been a soup^on of mockery in the Russian’s 
tones. If he had saved his life, Tom had most certainly 
disappointed the ambitions based on his successfully 
carrying out the hazardous enterprise. No, it was open 
to quCvStion whether the Ivanhoffs owed him much grati- 
tude. However, he was not likely to see much more of 
them, even if it should chance that he met mademoiselle 
again in their proposed trip up the country. 

There was great curiosity to hear their report, when, 
at a late hour, they made their appearance in the mess- 
room. Every one was delighted to hear such a flourish- 
ing account of Hugh Fleming; but what explanation 
did he give for not writing? And now it flashed across 
the two travellers, that in their brief conversation with 
Hugh the point had never been touched upon. It was 
odd, Byng admitted ; but they had so much to talk about 
he had quite forgotten to ask Hugh that question. 

“I suppose he hadn’t time,” at length said Brydon. 
“ Fleming’s got his hands pretty full just now, I should 
say,” he continued with a mischievous glance at Tom. 
Brydon invariably discountenanced marrying amongst 
his brother officers. He held that it spoilt the mess, 
and that soldiers had no business with wives, holding, I 
am afraid, to the slack breezy old adage of a fresh quar- 
ter and a fresh flame. Byng resolutely declined to be 
drawn upon this point, but some of the others were not 
so reticent, and were much amused with Brydon’s ac- 
count of “ Sister Marie.” “ Nobody but a born fool,” he 


190 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


concluded, ‘‘would ever dream of coming off the sick 
list with such a nurse as that. ” 

“ Was she so very handsome, then?" inquired a sus- 
ceptible subaltern. 

“Well, it’s so long since I’ve seen a pretty woman 
that I’m hardly a fair judge; but she’s about as good- 
looking as they make ’em. And now I’m off to roost, 
for I’m dog-tired. Good-night all of you.’’ 

Nothing much in all this, but idle gossip travels a 
long way at times. 

Hugh Fleming is quite conscious that he had rather 
got himself into a scrape. It had come about so natur- 
ally and so gradually that he really could not exactly 
say how it had all happened. In those early days, when 
he lay badly wounded and burnt up with fever — when 
the fires of life were flickering day by day, and when it 
was doubtful whether he would ever see a morrow’s sun — 
he was only dimly sensible of a soft hand that bathed 
his brow and smoothed his pillow, of a gentle presence 
that hovered around his bedside and seemed to bring 
with it rest and quietness. As his strength and powers 
of observation returned, it was soothing to lie there and 
watch the tall, slender figure of his nurse as she busied 
herself about her ward, and he became aware that in spite 
of the unbecoming costume Sister Marie was a young 
and good-looking woman with brilliant dark eyes and 
a particularly sweet smile. During that tedious con- 
valescence her assiduity was unwearied. She encouraged 
him to talk to her about himself, checked him quietly 
but firmly whenever she thought he was overtiring him- 
self, and in short, drew from Hugh pretty well his 
whole history. Not a very eventful one, nor had she 


BATCHI SERAT. 


199 


any particular interest in learning it ; but previous train- 
ing had rendered this almost intuitive with Marie Ivan- 
hoff. As he got better and stronger and was able to 
leave his sick bed, it was Sister Marie’s arm that sup- 
ported his tottering steps, the dark eyes softening mar- 
vellously when she was employed in his service ; and 
before three months had elapsed from the storming of 
the Redan, Hugh Fleming awoke to the fact that he 
was on very sentimental terms with his nurse. How 
the hardships of campaigning were relaxed. The Rus- 
sian sick, like the English, improved rapidly. If sup- 
plies were not so plentiful as in the British lines, still, 
at Batchi Serai there was no lack of sufficient food. 
Nature, that mighty assistant of all doctors, was having 
fair play, and was lending her powerful aid with a will. 
The consequence was, the hospitals were rapidly vacated, 
and at length the number of patients became so few that 
Marie Ivanhoff and one or two more of the younger 
ladies resigned their posts, threw off their dresses as 
nurses, and once more appeared radiant in their ordi- 
nary apparel. 

Hugh was much struck when his late nurse presented 
herself, no longer, as she laughingly informed him, in 
that capacity, but as Mademoiselle Ivanhoff come to visit 
M. le Capitaine Fleming and congratulate him on his 
recovery from his late serious illness. It is possible that 
Hugh rather overdid the gratitude on this occasion, and 
thanked mademoiselle more effusively and affectionately 
than was absolutely necessary ; but one thing is quite 
certain, that Fleming found he had slipped impercepti- 
bly from the rdle of a patient into that of a lover. And 
if soft smiles and sweet glances went for anything, into 
that of a favored one too. Mademoiselle Ivanhoff was 


200 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


no innocent girl, but a worldly young lady who had seen 
men and cities. But she was also of an imperious dis- 
position, and one who gave free rein to her caprices — 
one of those women who indulge in small whirlwinds of 
passion. Flirtations with them, while they last, usually 
assume the dignity of a grande passion. Mademoiselle 
on this occasion had become, in the first instance, in- 
terested in the man she had nursed back to life. She 
had wound up by falling in love with him after her 
fashion. 

They were dull, these provincial towns; this young 
Englishman would serve to amuse one here in the spring- 
time. And from this point of view Marie had appro- 
priated Hugh in the beginning. There were plenty of 
her compatriots quite willing to enliven Batchi Serai 
for the capricious lady. She never lacked admirers, let 
her go where she would, but she elected the Englishman 
her cavalier, and all endeavors to shake his position 
proved hopeless. 

It was awkward for Hugh, but it was not very easy to 
say how he could extricate himself. He was a prisoner, 
and so could not run away from temptation. He could 
not quarrel with the woman who had nursed him un- 
weariedly through that terrible illness. 

It was not that he was false to his English love, 
though there were passages in his flirtation with Marie 
IvanhofE that would have scarcely met her approval. 
vStill, when a young man of about six and twenty is ex- 
posed to all the fascinations of a pretty woman, who 
makes no attempt at concealing a tendresse for himself, 
it is small wonder if he gives occasion for the coupling 
of their names in the gossip of a small country town. 

It . was very singular, Hugh thought, that no news 


BATCHI SERAI. 


201 


should have come to him of Nellie Lynden. Of course 
he didn’t get his letters with the regularity he would have 
done in his own lines ; but still they did come to him at 
certain intervals. A few were forwarded by his own 
regiment, so that had Nellie written he most certainly 
ought to have received anything from her. His promo- 
tion, too. He had ceased to think about that. He was 
out of it now, and it little signified what regiment bore 
him on its strength. He supposed it was all over — that 
they would be all on their way home soon. In Batchi 
Serai they seemed just as convinced that the war was 
finished, as were the Allied camps. Hugh could not 
but admit there was some truth in what a Russian 
colonel had said to him : 

Y es, you have taken Sebastopol ; but to the defence 
belongs all the glory. When that siege becomes history, 
it is not your side who will be most talked about ; and 
among all the chiefs engaged in it Todleben will stand 
out a head and shoulders above the rest.” 

But what did Hugh care about history. The present 
was what he had to do with, and very pleasant he found 
it. It was lotos eating if you will, this dangling at the 
skirts of Mademoiselle Ivanhofi ,* it was not behaving 
quite fairly, perhaps, to his fiancee. But then, what could 
he do? It might not be quite right, but it was very pleas- 
ant. If his conduct was not exactly what it ought to be, 
he, at all events, couldn’t help it; and because a man 
was engaged to be married to one woman, he wasn’t 
justified in behaving like a brute to all the rest. It 
would all come to an 'end now in a few weeks, and Marie 
and he would part dear, good friends. He certainly did 
have occasional misgivings. That parting might be an 
unpleasant business. He had not promised marriage to 


202 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Marie Ivanhoff, neither had he informed her that he 
was pledged to another. But that young lady undoubt- 
edly regarded him as quite her own property, and Hugh 
knew full well that those dark eyes of hers could lighten 
on occasion, and that she was no woman to take a wound 
to her amour propre tamely. 

There were two things that certainly ought to have 
occurred to Hugh had his mind not been pre-occupied, 
namely, that taking all the circumstances into consider- 
ation it would be as well he should return to England ; 
and secondly, that if he set to work in earnest there 
would probably not be much difficulty in his doing so. 
He was a prisoner on parole at present, and peace was 
regarded as almost certain. It was not likely that the 
Russians would refuse him permission to go home if he 
simply gave his word not to serve against them in case 
of a resumption of hostilities. But if all this failed to 
cross the mind of Hugh Fleming, Tom Byng and his 
brother officers were considerably struck by it. Why 
Hugh lingered at Batchi Serai was inexplicable, except 
upon the grounds of his having fallen deeply in love 
with this fair Russian. That would account for every- 
thing. Otherwise it was very odd that he didn’t come 
to spend the last few weeks of the Crimean campaign 
with them. None of them doubted that he had only to 
apply for permission to obtain it, and one would have 
thought he would have enjoyed having a last look at 
the places where they had fought and suffered in the 
societ)" of comrades who had fought and suffered with 
him. 

“ Hang it!” as Brydon said, ‘'he ought to be anxious 
to see us. But when a fellow gets in that way he loses 
all sense of regard for his fellow-creatures bar one. I’m 


BATCHI SERAI. 


203 


blest if I don’t think he looked upon Tom and me as 
rather de trop at Batch! Serai the other day.” 

It may easily be supposed that Fleming had no mo- 
nopoly of the correspondence from Manchester. The 
regiment had been stationed there for some months, 
and one or two of his brother officers, although not cir- 
cumstanced as Hugh was, exchanged a few letters with 
friends they had made there. And so it came to pass 
that, though Hugh did not go to England, the news of 
his entanglement with Mademoiselle Ivanhoff did, and 
in due course it came to the ears of Frances Smerdon. 


CHAPTER XXL 


folly’s marriage. 

Frances Smerdon had been leading a life of great 
discontent of late. She was restless and discontented 
because she was left in complete ignorance of a good 
deal that she was anxious to know. Shf had heard no 
word of Nellie Lynden since she said good-by to her 
at Manchester. Where she was, or what she was doing, 
Frances had no idea. That Hugh Fleming was alive 
and well she had gathered from the papers, which all 
contained paragraphs concerning the missing officer. 
In her anxiety to hear something of Nellie she had 
written to Polly Phybbs, but the girl could only reply 
that she knew no more than Miss Smerdon — she had 
never seen or heard of either Dr. or Miss Lynden since 
their departure. There were letters for both of them, 
but Phybbs did not know where to forward them. She 
further informed Miss Smerdon that it was very awk- 
ward; she did not know what to do. The landlord of 
the house would, she was afraid, shortly give trouble. 
A half-year’s rent would become due ere long, and the 
proprietor stated that if he could hear nothing of the 
doctor or his money by that time he should be compelled 
to take the house once more into his own hands. He did 
not understand a gentleman in Dr. Lynden ’s position ab- 
senting himself in such an extraordinary fashion. It 
would be called absconding, as a rule, and was suggestive 

204 


Polly’s marriage. 


205 


of Dr. Lynden having fled from his creditors; but he 
acquitted him of that, because, to the best of his belief, 
he owed no man in the city money except himself. Why 
could the doctor not have given up the house before 
leaving, if he had no further use for it? That was the 
usual custom with yearly tenants. He had been treated 
with no consideration, and should certainly not keep a 
house vacant for a man who had behaved so badly to 
him as the doctor had done. The result of this one 
man’s grumbling was that an idea gradually sprung up 
in the neighborhood that the doctor had fled to escape 
the consequei^ces of his evil-doing, though of what his 
evil-doing consisted no one had an idea. Even a name 
was not given to his assumed crime. 

Such, narrated in wandering fashion, was the gist of 
Polly Phybbs’s letter, and Frances was fain to admit that 
there was scant information to be gained from that 
quarter. The one thing it seemed to point to was that 
Doctor Lynden had no intention of returning to Man- 
chester. That something might have occurred to nec- 
essitate his leaving it temporarily it was easy to 
understand, but it was. singular that he had not found 
time to make his landlord acquainted with his decision. 

Easter of 1856 is at hand. • Peace is not proclaimed, 
but is known now to .be an absolute certainty, and as 
Frances Smerdon thinks over the great drama that is now 
played out it all seems to her like a dream. A few 
months back she had felt herself intimately connected 
with some of those who were playing their parts in it, 
and now she had no idea what had become of them. 
Her bosom friend Nellie Lynden, Hugh Fleming, Tom 
Byng — she had lost all knowledge of them. The papers, 
it is true, still mentioned the doings of the Crimean 


2o6 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


army, but the fighting was over. There were no deeds 
of arms now to chronicle, and the letters of ‘‘ Our 
Special Correspondents” were chiefiy made up of ac- 
counts of their own tours up the country. It was rarely 
that there was any allusion to particular regiments, and 
of the doings of the — th she had heard never a word for 
months. 

Now it may be remembered that there resided at 
Manchester a Mrs. Montague, who had constantly 
acted as chaperone to the two girls. She had never main- 
tained any correspondence with Miss Smerdon, but one 
morning Frances received a letter from her. She was 
a v/ell-meaning, frivolous, gossipy woman, to whom 
news was as the breath of her nostrils. She was never 
so happy as when receiving or retailing it, and she had 
just picked up the story that Hugh Fleming was en- 
gaged to be married to a Russian countess. Like every 
one else, she was in perfect ignorance of where Miss 
Lynden was, otherwise she was just the woman to have 
at once hastened to condole with her on the infidelity 
of her lover. Not being able to WTite to her, she 
thought the nearest approach to it would be to write to 
Frances Smerdon, as her most intimate friend. Frances 
was thunderstruck at hearing such a rumor ^was current, 
and her first feeling was one of .indignant disbelief. 
But as she reflected on Mrs. Montague’s news there came 
the recollection that though the lady was an inveterate 
gossip, she • was for all that a veracious one. Such 
stories as she told she usually heard, and did not invent. 
Still, it was hard to believe, so thoroughly in love as 
Hugh Fleming had been, that he had proved, faithless 
in so short a time. Ah, well, she had made a terrible 
mistake in her own case, and perhaps she was quite as 


Polly’s marriage. 


207 


far wrong in Nell’s. Then Frances came to the con- 
clusion that if this were true, well, her friend was well 
out of her engagement. A man so fickle as Hugh 
Pdeming was not worth wasting a thought about. But 
for all that she knew that Nell Lynden would not feel 
it quite so easy to tear this love from her breast — a love 
that had cost her such heartaches and anxiety during 
the past year. Frances longed more than ever to be by 
her side and comfort her during this fresh hour of trial. 
Yet she knew that Nell was the last girl to bear with 
commiseration in trouble. Miss Smerdon could only 
think of one means to inquire into the truth of this re- 
port. Accordingly she once more wrote to Polly Phybbs 
to ask if she had heard anything of her master and 
mistress. The reply was as before, Phybbs had heard 
nothing. 

Miss Phybbs at present had her hands tolerably full 
of her own affairs. Police Constable Tarrant had been 
blest with another inspiration. What Sergeant Evans 
had gathered from their investigation of the laboratory 
Dick had no conception. That the sergeant did not 
think much of his own astuteness, Dick had gathered 
from his concluding words on that occasion ; but it hap- 
pened to suit him to persevere in the belief that the 
doctor was guilty of malpractices of some sort. As we 
know, the opinion of the neighborhood rather favored 
that supposition. Mr. Tarrant impressed upon Polly 
that it was more imperative than ever that strict watch 
should be kept upon the doctor’s house. He had his 
own reasons for this; having been suddenly struck with 
a brilliant idea. It was perfectly preposterous that he 
should be paying for his lodgings while such an excel- 
lent billet as the doctor’s house was next door to vacant. 


2o8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“You see, Polly,” said Mr. Tarrant, “the way the 
doctor went oif is in itself suspicious, and of course 
he’ll have to account for himself. When you want to 
catch a fox watch his earth. Now you see I can’t de- 
pend upon you. You’ve let him slip through your 
fingers once, and you’d do it again. Of course, for 
keeping an eye on ’em there is nothing like living in 
the same house ; but then, you see, it aint in you. It 
aint your fault. It’s not everybody’s got the gift of 
observation. ” 

“ I don’t believe Dr. Lynden will ever come back.” 

“ Oh yes he will. They always do. Now, I tell you 
what, my girl. I’m just going to combine business 
and economy. What do people do when they go away 
— for nobody knows how long — like Dr. Lynden? 
What do they do, I say? Why, they puts a caretaker 
into their house, of course. And who makes the best 
caretaker? A policeman — a man like myself, who is 
both a guardian of the law and a keen observer. My 
wages aint that liberal that I can afford to play ducks 
and drakes with my money, and it’s all nonsense my 
paying for my lodgings while there’s plenty of vacant 
bedrooms and the run of a tidy kitchen here for nothing. ” 

Now all this gave rise to not only discussion but con- 
siderable altercation between these two. Mr. Tarrant 
was a man not much given to see beyond his nose. His 
keenness of observation was pretty much confined to 
what affected his own comforts. Polly, on the other 
hand, demurred to his becoming an inmate of the house- 
hold. She pointed out that if she allowed him to come 
and live there in the absence of her master it would 
give rise to considerable scandal among the'neighbors 
at her expense. This Mr. Tarrant promptly met with 


Polly’s marriage. 


209 


a proposal to marry her at once. Polly was quite aware 
that this was a piece of imprudence. She had not 
money enough yet put by with which to start house- 
keeping, and it was simply preposterous to suppose 
Dick had any reserve fund of this nature. Their posi- 
tion at the best would be extremely precarious, termi- 
nating, of course, as soon as the house was tenanted again. 
But Dick was obstinate. He argued that there were 
always plenty of houses to let in Manchester, and that 
if he once got a start in this sort of employment he 
should never be out of a job; and so, after they had 
quarrelled and argued over the subject for some weeks, 
Polly eventually gave in, and consented to become Mrs. 
Tarrant during the approaching Easter week. 

It was all over at last. Miss Phybbs had become 
Mrs. Tarrant, and Polly, having taken care to obtain 
the consent of the landlord, in the absence of her 
master, Dick was duly installed in the berth he coveted, 
and combined the post of caretaker of Dr. Lynden’s 
house with his official duties. 

After poring for some days over the papers he had 
taken from the doctor’s laboratory. Sergeant Evans felt 
pretty sure that he had got to the bottom of the doc- 
tor’s mysterious occupation. 

^H’ve heard of such a thing,” he muttered. “I’ve 
heard it talked about often since this war began, but I 
never much believed in it. I’ve been told often that 
England is full of Russian spies, and I have very little 
doubt that the doctor is one of them, and a top-sawyer 
at the game. Those papers I took away from his lab- 
oratory mean that, if they mean anything; but I don’t 
know what' use we could make of it — even if I could 
prove it, for one thing — and if we could catch him for 

14 


210 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


another. I have never attempted to follow him np 
since he left, and he’s probably well abroad by this 
time. I don’t know what they’d do with a Russian spy, 
even if you took him red-handed. Out there, in the 
Crimea, they shoot such vermin, I believe; but we 
couldn’t do that here. Nor do I believe we could 
legally hang him. 

“Well, he’s gone, and there’s no more to be said 
about it. I take it, though, I could make it pretty 
hot for some of his correspondents, if I only knew 
their names. They are employes in government offices, 
I should fancy, many of them, and surely they are 
liable to punishment. The lady of the roses is 
the only one I know by sight, and further than that 
she came from London I know nothing about her. He 
must have paid well; but even then she doesn’t look 
the sort to mix herself up in such a dirty business. 
That woman is a real lady, and holding her head pretty 
high, too. Well! given a passion for dress and a crav- 
ing to take a place in the world, and there’s no saying 
what a woman wont do. Who is she? She had a wed- 
ding ring on her finger. I wonder what her husband 
is? That fellow’s most likely high up in the War 
Office, the Foreign Office, the Treasury, or something, 
and selling government information to pay for his 
wife’s extravagance, dress and display!” continued 
Sergeant Evans, shaking his head sagaciously. “ Ah, 
dress and display ! what a lot of domestic firesides you 
have bust up, to be sure! It don’t seem to matter a 
deal whether the man’s on a clerk’s stool at a hundred 
a year or whether he’s in the directors’ parlor at five 
thousand. Well, this is all very pretty theory, but it 
aint evidence. I’ve got the clue in my hand. It 


Polly’s marriage. 


2II 


wouldn’t be difficult to shadow that lady home, and 
then find out all about them. It’s a beautiful case — it’s 
a sin to give it up — it’s just lovely — but then I’m not 
engaged in it. 

‘‘No,” continued the sergeant, “when people want 
one thing it’s no use giving them another. When peo- 
ple are looking for the North Pole it aint a bit of use 
sending ’em a lot of valuable information about Cen- 
tral Africa. Scotland Yard wants a coiner. Well, I 
can only say we don’t happen to have the article on 
hand at present. Scotland Yard must catch him them- 
selves. As for Lynden, he had doubtless his own rea- 
sons for making a bolt of it, though as far as I actually 
know there was no cause for his going. It’s a very 
pretty puzzle, and I shall always feel sorry that the 
working it out didn’t fall into my hands professionally. 
As for this Tarrant, how we came to take such a thick- 
head as that I can’t think. I shall recommend the 
chief to get rid of him at the first opportunity ; and if I 
know anything about the lazy good-for-nothing hound, 
he wont have to wait long for that.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


EASTER EGGS. 

The expedition that Byng and Brydon had planned, 
and of which the ride to Batchi Serai had been only the 
forerunner, was now on the point of departure. There 
were half a dozen of them altogether, and they were 
taking with them a cart drawn by two stout ponies, in 
which was stowed a bell-tent for themselves, a picket- 
tent for their servants, besides rugs and other impedi- 
menta. They were going, as Byng laughingly re- 
marked, like all other fashionable people, into the 
country for Easter. They had got a week’s leave, and 
the programme was to make their way up to Simphe- 
ropol by easy marches, and see as much as they could 
of that and any other towns before their return. They 
were to camp out, and so be thoroughly independent of 
hotels ; while as for provisions, there would be no diffi- 
culty whatever in procuring them. It was a very 
pretty little tour, and many of them often looked back 
in after-days to the free life they led and the week’s fun 
they had, when they were campaigning in Russia on 
their own account — when there were no colonels or 
commander-in-chief to trouble them, and the only dis- 
contented man of the half-dozen was the man who had 
the middle watch. It was necessary that one of them 
should always be on guard at night — not that they 
feared either attack or robbery for themselves, but 


212 


EASTER EGGS. 


213 


there was always the chance of one or other of the 
ponies getting loose and straying a little from their 
encampment, in which case his recovery would be very 
problematical. 

Well, I hope you fellows will have a good time,” 
said the adjutant, who with two or three of their 
brother officers had congregated about the mess-room 
door to see the expedition start. By the time you 
come back we shall, most likely, have heard something 
about when we are to embark for home.” 

‘^Ah, it will take a good while,” rejoined Byng, 
even when it’s begun. Think of what a lot of ships 
it took to bring us all here ! Wonder whether they will 
take home the railroad ! If I was a shareholder I should 
try and sell mine at Simpheropol. Good-by!” and 
with that Tom and his companions rode off. 

The party were by this all old hands at camp life. 
The organization had been efficient, and the result was 
satisfactory in the extreme. As a matter of course they 
pitched their tent one night on the outskirts of Batchi 
Serai, and here they counted upon coming across Hugh 
Fleming and bringing him back to dine with them at 
least, even if they didn’t bring him back altogether. 
They soon found that the Russians were already with- 
drawing their troops from the Crimea. Many regi- 
ments were on their way to cross the Steppes ; indeed, 
several of the officers who had entertained Byng and 
Brydon a fortnight ago were already gone, so they were 
informed by a gray-headed old colonel, who told them 
he had fought against them at Inketman, and had 
served in Sebastopol from that day to its fall. From 
him they learned that Mademoiselle Ivanhoff and the 
English officer were also amongst those who had 


214 


liEATRTCE AND HENEDICK. 


left the place. Where they had gone to he didn’t 
know. 

“We have collected men/' he said, “in the Cher- 
sonese from all parts of the empire. There was no 
keeping count of where they came from, any more than 
there is of where they are going to. My corps came 
from Moscow. They were on their way back to St. 
Petersburg, and I follow them to-morrow. Half of 
them we have left round Sebastopol, and though the 
weather is fine the rest have a weary march across the 
Steppes before them. You are fortunate, gentlemen, 
your ships will carry you home. ” 

“It’s a rum go/’ said Brydon, after they had said 
farewell to the Russian colonel ; “but I can’t believe 
but what Hugh Fleming might have rejoined us at any 
time in the past month if he had wished to.” 

Byng assented shortly. He was quite of Brydon’s 
opinion, but did not dare to discuss what he considered 
Flugh’s weakness. It all mattered nothing to him. If 
Hugh chose to jilt his fiaficee and marry this Russian 
girl, it was no business of his. He thought his old 
chum was making a grievous mistake, and that though 
mademoiselle might be extremely charming to phil- 
ander with, Hugh would find she didn’t do as a wife. 

“Of course, she has a tremendous pull,” he mur- 
mured. “ She nursed him through a deuced bad bout 
of it, saved his life, and all that, which gives her a 
claim upon him, and she struck me as just the sort of 
woman to rivet such manacles tight. They are all con- 
demning Hugh and calling him a fool, but very likely 
none of us would have come out of the thing a bit bet- 
ter. Men often find it difficult to escape an entangle- 
ment of this sort when the lady holds nothing like such 


EASTER EGGS. 


215 


cards as chance dealt Mademoiselle Ivanhoff. With 
such reflections Byng beguiled the way back to their 
small encampment. He would say nothing to his com- 
panions, who, finding that Hugh was not at Batchi 
Serai, would probably for the present dismiss him from 
their memories, but would take every opportunity that 
afforded itself of ascertaining whether Hugh had veri- 
tably left the Crimea. Mademoiselle Ivanhoff was ap- 
parently a lady of some note, and when they got up 
to Simpheropol possibly something definite would be 
learned about her movements at all events. 

The party was all in the highest possible health and 
spirits, and, as Byng foresaw, the strange conduct of 
Hugh Fleming had already faded from his companions’ 
minds. Had they not camped on the banks of the 
Alma, and consoled themselves for not being present at 
that brilliant victory by bathing in the famed stream? 
At length they pitched their tent in the environs of 
Simpheropol. Though not nearly so pretty, this was 
much more of a town than Batchi Serai. The semi- 
Oriental appearance which marked the capital of the 
Khans was absent here. Simpheropol was emphatically 
a Russian town, and just now was thronged with Rus- 
sian officers and such followers as an army, if stationed 
ever so short a time, rapidly collects round itself. The 
hotels, by no means numerous, were crowded, and the 
party rather congratulated themselves upon their own 
canvas habitations that made them independent. 

Easter was in full swing. The churches were 
thronged, and the bells seemed to peal day and night. 
Easter eggs were much in vogue, and more than one, 
gayly painted and beribboned, was presented to Tom 
and his friends. They attracted some little attention 


2i6 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


in the town ; not that the British uniform had been an 
uncommon sight there for the last month, but they 
were rather a strong party, and when they first rode 
into the place many passers-by turned to stare at them. 

They had lounged into one of the churches the even- 
ing after their arrival, and were listening to the solemn 
swell of the organ in the celebration of Midnight Mass, 
when Byng suddenly felt his arm touched. Turning 
round, he saw a neat-looking peasant girl at his elbow. 
She threw him a meaning glance and slipped an Easter 
egg into his hand. Breaking another in her own, she 
nodded to him to do likewise, put her finger for a sec- 
ond on her lip, and vanished. Tom quietly made his 
way out of the church after his mysterious messenger, 
but at the door she looked back at him, frowned, shook 
her head, and signified unmistakably that he was not to 
follow her. Then, once more making a motion with her 
hand, as if breaking something, she darted down the 
street and left Byng standing in the brilliantly lighted^ 
doorway of the building. Tom crushed the egg in his 
hand, as it had been clearly intimated that he should 
do, and found, as he expected, that it contained a note. 
Marvelling considerably who his unknown correspon- 
dent could be, Byng proceeded to run his eye over it. 

“ If you have a little more strength of mind than 
most of your sex, take away your friend. There is no 
keeping flies from honey, and once cloyed with its 
sweets they are powerless to help themselves. You 
know what I mean. Your friend has fallen into the 
toils, and is but as wax in the hands of Marie Ivanhoff. 

I would wish no enemy of mine a worse fate than this. 
Who am I, and why do I interfere? A woman — a 
woman on whom in her insolence Marie Ivanhoff has 
dared to inflict bitter wrong. She stole my lover from 


EASTER EGGS. 


217 


me, and though it is not yet a year since he died 
gloriously for Russia in Sebastopol, already this 
Englishman takes his place. Do you know what these 
Ivanhoffs are? Unscrupulous adventurers, destitute 
of all sense of honor and and principle. The brother is a 
gambler and duellist, the sister an mtriguaiite who plays 
with men’s hearts as a conjuror with balls. What 
Marie may purpose to do with the Englishman I do not 
know — marry him, perhaps, if he is wealthy. To save 
your friend I would not stir a finger; to thwart Marie 
Ivanhoff I would spend the last rouble I possess. Cap- 
tain Fleming is a free man at this moment, although 
he does not know it. The Jezebel, whose slave he is, 
has contrived to keep back the order releasing him from 
his parole. If you wish to see him, be in the same 
place, at the same time, to-morrow night. 

Vashta.” 

‘‘Well,” thought Tom, after he had read it, “I’ve 
always known women to pick each other to pieces a bit, 
but for command of polished Billingsgate, it strikes me, 
‘Vashta’s’ about top form. However, whether all she 
says of Mademoiselle Ivanhoff is true, or, as is very 
probable, only half of it is gospel, the sooner Master 
Hugh clears out the better for him. I’ll be here to- 
morrow, and, if I can, take him away.” 

Tom’s conclusion, as he came to find out afterwards, 
was pretty accurate. If Mademoiselle Ivanhoff was a 
born coquette, and plunged from one flirtation into an- 
other, she was very far from being as bad as the soi- 
disant Vashta painted her. The two had been fast 
friends once, but had quarrelled, and there was now bit- 
ter enmity between them — enmity, too, of the most 
malignant kind on the part of Vashta, who lost no op- 
portunity of magnifying the peccadilloes of the Ivan- 
hoffs into crimes. Alexis Ivanhoff, for instance, was a 


2i8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


gambler certainly, like most of his countrymen, and he 
had also been out, but professed duellist he was not. 
Still he gave quite sufficient occasion for his detractors to 
blacken his character. 

At a villa in the environs of Simpheropol a lady was 
seated looking out across the Steppes, musing in some- 
what melancholy fashion how this episode in her life 
was to end. 

“A few days,” she murmured, “and I must set forth 
for my return journey to St. Petersburg. What am I 
to do with my Englishman? He is very nice, and I am 
very fond of him. I’m not very conventional, and not 
given to be afraid of what the world says; but I can’t 
travel over half Russia with a gentleman who is not my 
husband. Shall I marry him? I can’t make up my 
mind about that.” 

The door opened, and the subject of her meditations 
stood before her. One glance at his face told Marie 
that he knew of her treachery. 

“I thought it very odd,” he said, “that no answer 
was made by the governor to my application. You 
told me it was always the case with official business in 
your country — that those in authority could not be 
hurried. ” 

“ You might have known that all officials expect to be 
paid for speed.” 

“You do them injustice. I am told that my freedom 
was restored to me some days hence. How is it that 
the letter never reached my hands?” 

“ How should I know?” she replied, with a slight 
shrug of her shoulders. “ The orderly sent with it per- 
haps got drunk, perhaps lost it. What does it matter?” 

“ It matters a good deal,” he replied quietly, but with 


EASTER EGGS. 


219 


a hardness in his tones to which she was totally tinac- 
customed. “I’ve business to do in England which 
brooks no delay. ” 

“ You cannot think of that, Hugh, till you have seen 
me safe to St. Petersburg,” she murmured in her soft- 
est tones, and with a glance of her dark eyes calculated 
to turn any man’s head. 

Not two minutes ago and she had pretty well made 
up her mind that she and Hugh must part; but now all 
the inborn coquetry of her nature was aroused, and she 
could no more bear the idea of losing her lover than a 
cat could bear seeing a mouse escape from its claws. 
She was, too, just at present, very fond of Hugh, and 
it had been solely from prudential motives that she had 
rather sorrowfully come to the conclusion that they 
must part. Now passion had conquered prudence, and 
she determined to detain him, cost what it might. 

“I regret,” he said, “that I am compelled to deprive 
myself of that pleasure. I have no right to be absent 
from England an hour longer than I can help. Where 
is that letter?” 

“ Hugh, dearest, you will see me to St. Petersburg, 
will you not?” she replied, gently laying her hand upon 
his arm, and utterly ignoring his last question. 

“ Where is that letter?” was his sole reply. 

Marie Ivanhoif’s eyes began to sparkle, and it waj 
with some little asperity that she rejoined: 

“ I have told you I know nothing of it.” 

“ Excuse me, you are mistaken. I have been to the 
governor’s office. I have seen the orderly who brought 
it. He did not lose it, but delivered it here at this 
house. I must trouble you to remember what you have 
done with it,” 


220 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Mademoiselle recognized too clearly the suppressed 
anger in his tones. What could it be that made him so 
anxious to get to England? Was this the man whom 
she had thought so completely in her thrall, so securely 
compassed by her chains? Could it be possible that she 
had been beaten at her own game — that this English- 
man had been staking counters all the time against her 
own gold pieces? Her cheeks flushed and the dark eyes 
flashed ominously as, still ignoring his question, she 
asked : 

‘‘ What is it you are so anxious about in England?’' 

‘‘ To ascertain the safety of one I love,” he replied, 
harshly. “The letter!” 

“Of one loved dearer than any!” She half uncon- 
sciously quoted, and as she spoke the dark eyes gazed 
into his, as if to read his very soul. “ Stop ! do not 
speak; I can read my answer in your face.” Then 
crossing the room rapidly she opened an escritoire, and 
exclaimed, “Here is your letter, monsieur.” 

“And what right had you,” he asked fiercely, as he 
took the letter from her hand — 

“Stop!” she cried, drawing herself up to her full 
height, “spare me further humiliation. Your devotion 
to me has been all a farce! With your troth pledged to 
some white-faced English girl you have dared to amuse 
yourself with me ! It is well for you that my brother is 
not at hand to call you to account for the affront you 
have put upon me. I have only now, monsieur, to con- 
gratulate you on the complete recovery of your health, 
and to wish you bo7i voyage.'' And, having bestowed 
upon him a stately courtesy. Mademoiselle Ivanhoff 
swept from the room. 

Nothing could be more sarcastic than the inflection 


EASTER EGGS. 


221 


of her voice as she alluded to the recovery of his 
health. 

Hugh could not but recall how much she had con- 
tributed to it. What a fool he had been in his wrath to 
all but blunder out that unlucky question. Did he 
want to tear the last shred off the vanity of the woman 
to whom he, humanly speaking, owed his life. For 
such love as there had been between them he had not 
to hold himself much to blame.' Mademoiselle Ivan- 
hoff was no girl in her teens, but a young lady of wide 
experiences, and Hugh could honestly say that the 
temptation most decidedly came from her side in the 
commencement. 

He felt uncomfortable — nay more, to do him justice, 
he was much distressed — at the idea of so parting from 
his nurse, but he vowed to himself that he would never 
swerve from his loyalty to Nellie Lynden. Men are 
apt to be casuists in such matters, but I think it was 
perhaps as well for Hugh Fleming that Miss Lynden 
was not called upon to sit in judgment upon his case at 
the time. The most merciful of women would, I fancy, 
have thought the offending too deep to be passed over 
lightly. As for Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, although she 
was for once defeated with her own weapons, no one 
could deny that her retreat was conducted with all the 
honors of war. Nevertheless, her friend and betrayer 
knew that her thrust had gone home, and exulted in her 
own bower accordingly, 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE ROYAL REVIEW. 

Madame “ Vashta” had been very thorough-going in 
her vengeance, and had written Hugh ample details of 
the treachery exercised towards him as regards his cor- 
respondence. She was too clever a woman to vilify 
Mademoiselle Ivanhoff to quite the extent she had done 
in her letter to Byng. 

‘‘ These men are so foolish,” she said to herself. “ If 
I place the whole turpitude of her character before him, 
he might be hot-headed enough to champion her,” so 
she confined herself to innuendoes regarding Mademoi- 
selle Ivanhoff’s character, but was very clear and dis- 
tinct in her account of the tampering with his letters. 
He was quite aware, from the talk he had heard amongst 
Russian officers, that Mademoiselle Ivanhoff had ren- 
dered herself a little notorious by her numerous te?idresses^ 
but that she should have dared to keep back his letters 
made Hugh very angry. 

The fair Vashta” had calculated upon this, but hav- 
ing still some fears of his infirmity of purpose, she 
arranged that he should meet his English comrades at 
church. Hugh employed the day in buying a pony, 
and in making preparations for his departure. He 
heard there was a party of English officers in the town, 
but had not seen them, and did not know whether they 
belonged to his old regiment or not. He would go 

222 ^ 


THE ROYAL REVIEW. 


223 


back — with them if they were returning at once — but 
go back he would, without further delay. Marie had 
kept her room closely all day, and though he had been 
in and out of the house he had not seen her since the 
rupture. He would fain have said good-by,” and 
not have parted in anger ; but he would not so far re- 
treat from his position of righteous wrath as to solicit an 
interview. Without seeing her again he set forth, as 
his correspondent directed, for the church at which he 
was assured he would meet his compatriots. 

Byng was awaiting him. After exchanging a hearty 
hand grip, the two made their way outside and com- 
menced to pace up and down in the moonlight. 

I thought perhaps it might be you. I was told I 
should meet some of my own people if I came here to- 
night.” 

Yes, and you will come back with us, wont you?” 
said Byng. “There surely can be no difficulty, now 
peace is proclaimed. We expected you two or three 
weeks ago. Brydon would have it that you couldn’t 
harden your heart to say good-by to ‘Sister Marie.’” 

“ I’m coming with you at once,” rejoined Hugh, “ and 
shall start for England by the first ship that will give 
tne a passage. I’ve a notion I’m wanted there.” 

“You’re better there than here,” said Byng dryly. 
“ But come along ; we had best fetch your pony, and 
then you can sleep in our camp, so as to be ready for an 
early start to-morrow morning.” 

The next day saw Hugh Fleming and his old com- 
rades of the — th oh their way back to Vanoutka. He 
told them all he had applied for his release on parole 
some weeks back, but by some mistake he had only re- 
ceived permission to depart on the previous day, and 


224 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Tom Byng* alone was aware of Sister Marie’s perfidy. 
On arrival in camp Fleming lost no time in securing a 
passage for England, and in two days he had bidden 
his comrades good-by. 

The embarkation is begun in real earnest. Every 
day sees some contingent of the Allied army marching 
down to the transports that await them either at Kami- 
esch or Balaklava. Sutlers are breaking up their stores 
and restaurants, and the luxuries of life vary in the most 
astounding way, accordingly as proprietors are getting 
rid of stores or are nearly sold out. Boards are sitting 
on war material, clothing, etc. , with instructions to con- 
demn it on the mere shadow of excuse. Ponies that 
would have been reckoned cheap at twenty pounds apiece 
a few weeks ago are turned adrift in the streets of Bala- 
klava or sold for as many shillings. There is a fretting 
for home in the breasts of those whose turn has not yet 
come, and the anxiety to return to England seems al- 
most as great as two years ago it had been to leave. 
There is a feeling that the whole thing is “played out,” 
that the curtain is down, and that there is not much fun 
in lingering in the lobby for one’s carriage. They had 
been inside Sebastopol, had gazed upon the caves of 
Inkerman, had explored from the Phoros Pass to Yalta, 
from the Valley of Tcherkaya to the Heights of Macken- 
zie, from the palace of the Khans to the banks of the 
Alma. They had done it all. They had fought the 
old fights over again until they were sick of discussing 
blood and carnage. Beside, as Tom Byng said : 

“ It’s our duty to hurry home and tell lies for the edi- 
fication of our friends and relations.” 

Hurrah ! the transport is in at last, and the order is 


THE ROYAL REVIEW. 


225 


come for Her Majesty’s — th to march to Balaklava, 
and embark on board the steamship Adelaide at one 
o’clock. That afternoon saw the regiment steaming 
down the Black Sea. Many a wistful glance was cast 
back at the fast fading cliffs of the Chersonese as the 
thoughts arose in men’s minds of how many staunch 
and true comrades they left behind to sleep their last 
sleep on Cathcart’s Hill or amongst the numerous graves 
that lie scattered on the plateau. Well might the 
colonel say, as he went over the returns of the regi- 
ment from its landing to its re-embarkation : 

“ Thanks to drafts we are taking home a strong bat- 
talion; but we’ve left another behind. I don’t think 
they’ll be able to say we haven’t won our spurs now.” 

It might almost have been termed sociable, their home- 
ward voyage. The sea was alive with ships. All down 
the Mediterranean the signal halyards were constantly 
running, as they passed or repassed vessels, all engaged 
like themselves in the talk of bringing the army home. 
Here they exchanged compliments with a large trooper 
similarly employed, now they dipped their flag to a 
French man of war, and anon lowered it to an English 
monster of the same kind. At last they anchored at 
Spithead to await orders. These duly arrived and di- 
rected a debarkation at the dockyard, with a view to 
proceeding to Aldershot to take part in the great review 
that was to be held there by the queen. 

The camp had been in great measure vacated to make 
way for as much of the Crimean army as it was possible 
to assemble there. ' The camp in those days was of con- 
siderably more modest dimensions than it is now, and 
the accommodation was doubtless stretched to its utmost 
limits, which gave Mr. Flinn an opportunity of invidi- 

15 


226 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


ously comparing it with what they had left behind them. 
It must be conceded that the huts on the Aldershot dusty 
plain did appear rather at a disadvantage after the pretty 
t:amp at Vanoutka Pass, with the Black Sea smiling 
beneath it as it had been when the regiment last saw it. 
Those early days were spent principally by officers in 
conferences with hatters and tailors — for absence, except 
for short periods, was not accorded until the Royal Re- 
view was over. At length as many troops as could be 
mustered, or as many as could be got into Aldershot 
Camp, canvas included, were collected, the day was 
fixed, and the queen, accompanied by Prince Albert and 
the Prince of Wales, came down to review and thank 
the army for their services. Half London was there to 
see, and half Hampshire, also. Despite a shower or two 
the Royal Review was a grand success, and a more 
ringing cheer than went up from officers and men in 
answer to Her Majesty’s speech has never been heard 
since, often though the voices of her soldiers have risen 
to greet her in that cantonment. 

And now, sad to say, a rather severe disappointment 
was destined to befall the — th. It was well known that 
they had been brought to Aldershot simply for this oc- 
casion, and their ultimate destination was a matter of 
grave speculation with officers and men. Both, I think, 
conceived themselves entitled to a bit of a fling on their 
return, and when they were informed that they were to 
be quartered at Portsmouth there was much exultation 
in the ranks. Mr. Flinn and many of the veterans 
opined that there was much ‘‘ divarsion” to be obtained 
in that town. The regiment had been quartered there 
before, and old soldiers could speak with authority as to 
the capabilities of that seaport. But when they detrained 


THK ROY AT. RF.VIEW. 


227 


there it was broken to them that they were only to re- 
main pending embarkation for Ireland, and that the Cur- 
ragh of Kildare was their ultimate destiny. 

“Faith,” said Mickey Flinn when he heai*d it, “it’s 
the divil’s own mess we’ve made of it, bhoys, be not set- 
tling out there. We’d a better camp than ever we’re 
likely to foind at home and lashings of everything — that 
is as far as camps go. ” But when it was further pointed 
out to the colonel by the brigade major that the authori- 
ties were so pushed for barrack accommodation that for 
the short time the — th were to remain there the only 
quarters they could assign to the regiment was an empty 
convict hulk, the ridicule of the situation almost ex- 
tinguished the disappointment. The queen’s thanks 
and a berth on board a convict ship were such an incon- 
gruous recognition of their services that neither men 
nor officers could help laughing. “ Tear an ’ouns !” said 
Mickey Flinn, “ ’ave I’d only known it would end like 
this. I’d have qualified for the lodging and enjoyed 
meself . Oh ! murther, to think I almost took the pledge 
till the review was over, for fear I’d be a disgrace to the 
regiment. Deed, bhoys, there’s no encouragement for 
virtue and sobriety in this world.” 

Leave of absence was now granted to as many officers 
of the regiment as could be spared, and Tom Byng was 
amongst the first to take advantage of this. As he trav- 
elled up to town he wondered a good deal what had be- 
come of Hugh Fleming, and how matters stood between 
him and Miss Lynden. The sudden cessation of her 
letters was singular. She knew that he was a prisoner, 
and surely she would have written a line to congratulate 
him on his escape from the very doors of the tomb. 
Mademoiselle IvanhofE had no doubt tampered with 


2^8 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Hugh’s correspondence, but all letters for him from 
home had been directed as usual to the regiment, and 
forwarded thence by Byng himself. He knew Miss Lyn- 
den’s handwriting well, and could swear that no letter 
from her had passed through his hands since September 
last. Perhaps he would meet Hugh in town. Nobody 
had heard from him since he sailed for England. Then 
Tom began to meditate over his own immediate pros- 
pects, and what were the capabilities of the Curragh of 
Kildare. 

‘‘Well, there’s a good spell of leave to start with,” he 
mused, “ and that brings me well into the autumn be- 
fore I have to rejoin. As for huts, we are used to them, 
and the magnificence of a barrack-room might only ap- 
pal us. There will be a bit of racing to be done in 
September and October, and then comes the hunting. 
Besides, it’s close to Dublin, and they are a lively lot, 
from all accounts, in the Irish capital. Upon the whole 
I dare say it will do very well. In the mean time, I 
shall make the most of the last few weeks of the sea- 
son — go everywhere! By Jove! I haven’t been to a 
theatre for an age. My dramatic taste wants rubbing 
up woefully.” 

On inquiry at the Thermopolium, the club to which 
they were both affiliated, he found that Fleming was in 
town. He was not in the house at that moment, but 
was there every day. The club was thronged, and 
though, as a rule, its members were as smartly dressed 
a body of men as any in London, there was certainly 
some queer “ get ups ” to be seen flitting about it now — 
men who had not found time to renew their ward- 
robes, in some instances habited in undress uniforms 
from which the first gloss had long departed. But it is 


THE ROYAL REVIEW. 


229 


a question whether the Thermopolium had ever known 
livelier times than when the army came home from the 
Chersonese. Tom Byng soon found himself amongst a 
knot of old friends who hailed him gleefully. 

“Now, he looks fit, don’t he?” cried Jim Lockwood, 
“ for a man that was shot through the head, and then 
fraudulently persisted in doing his regiment out of the 
step by coming to life again. I do call him fit.” 

“ How are you, Jim? Yes, we wintered well this time. 
Nothing to do and plenty to get. Odd if we didn’t look 
well. ” 

“Well, you do, old man,” rejoined the Hussar; “but 
there’s one of you I’m sorry to say don’t, and that’s 
Hugh Fleming. He used to be up to anything. Now 
he seems to have no ‘go’ left in him. Sits as glum as an 
undertaker over his wine, and his liquor seems to do 
him no good. I suppose, poor fellow, he’s never got 
over the mauling he had on the eighth. ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Byng. “ I haven’t seen him for 
the last two months.” 

“ Well, there’s something wrong with him. He’s not 
the Hugh Fleming he used to be.” 

A little later Byng encountered the man he was in 
search of, and the pair speedily drew a couple of chairs 
into a window of the reading-room, and sat down for a 
long, confabulation. 

“ Now, Hugh, what’s the matter?” asked Byng. 
“ Some one of the fellows here told me just now that you 
weren’t well. I can see you look worried to death. 
What is it?” 

“Well, I am. I don’t know what to do, nor what to 
think. You know how I’m situated ; you know I’ve had 
never a line from Nellie now for months. As soon as I 


230 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


got home, the first thing I did was to run down to Man- 
chester to find out what it all meant.” 

“Well?” said Byng eagerly. 

“ She and her father have simply vanished. It ap- 
pears they left their house months ago, quite suddenly, 
without saying a word to any one. They have left no 
address, and nobody can tell me anything about them. 
There’s only an old woman taking care of the house. 
All I could get out of her was, that she hadn’t been there 
long, that Dr. Lynden had been gone for months, and 
that the house was to let. If I went to the landlord 
perhaps he could tell me more. I tried him, which only 
resulted in rather strong language between us.” 

“ How so?” 

“Well, he knew nothing about Dr. Lynden, wished he 
did, and he’d have the law of him. The doctor hadn’t 
behaved like a gentleman. The man began to get abus- 
ive, and then I cut in and told him I’d knock his teeth 
down his throat if he didn’t shut up.” 

“Very natural,” remarked Byng, “but hardly per- 
haps the best way to get information out of the man.” 

“ Then I called upon Mrs. Montague, who was all 
smiles and smirks, and was she to congratulate me upon 
having celebrated peace by bringing home a Russian 
bride? Pleasant, wasn’t it?” And Hugh shot a keen 
glance at his friend. 

“ Never mind,” replied Tom diplomatically; “let us 
pass over that episode.” 

“ Then I asked her what had become of the Lyndens. 
She immediately drew herself up, pursed her lips, said 
they’d not taken her into their confidence. People were 
so ill-natured, though she never believed half what she 
heard. Dr. Lynden had doubtless his own reasons for 


THE ROYAL REVIEW. 


231 


going- away so suddenly. People did talk so, etc. , 
etc.” 

''And then,” said Tom, "yon cut in with another of 
your knock-down arguments, I suppose?” 

"I never felt more like it,” rejoined Hugh. "My 
adieux were a little abrupt, but I did manage to swallow 
my wrath. Still, there remains the question — What on 
earth has become of the Lyndens?” 

"Nobody is ever lost in these days,” said Tom, sen- 
tentiously. "Why a quiet, elderly gentleman should 
abandon his home, apropos of nothing, I can’t imagine; 
but there’s one thing you may rely upon, that now we 
are once more in England Miss. Lynden knows where to 
write to you. Why, if she only put the regiment and 
London, it would get to you eventually. If you can’t 
find her, she can find you, if she likes.” 

"That’s just what it is,” said Hugh, rising. "She 
wont. Some garbled version of what happened out in 
the Crimea has reached her ears. Mrs. Montague 
wouldn’t have been so ready with her congratulations if 
there had not been some story of the sort flying about 
Manchester. No, old man. I’ve got to find Nell, and 
have it out with her; and you’ve got to help me.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


IN FULL CRY. 

Tom Byng was not the man to fail a friend who 
claimed his assistance. He had heard Hugh’s story, 
and having briefly arranged that they should dine to- 
gether, announced his intention of having a “ good solid 
smoke. ” Tom had great belief in the virtues of tobacco, 
and generally sought inspiration from it in some shape 
when the intricacies of life seemed too much for him. 
Having taken an arm-chair in a retired corner of the 
smoking-room, and lit a Cabana of extra size to do jus- 
tice to the occasion, Tom began to turn the whole thing 
over in his mind. 

‘‘ Yes, ’’bethought, “ Hugh is right; that’s what’s the 
matter. That Sister Marie story has come to her ears 
and she’s fired up. And not without reason, if she knew 
all. But the girl can’t be lost. Somebody must have 
her address. She must be found. Things can’t come 
straight between them if they don’t meet; and after 
undergoing all the fears and anxieties of last year about 
him it would be pitiable if she threw him over, now 
he’s come home safe, because he indulged in a fool’s 
flirtation out there. There can’t be a question about his 
genuine love for her. By Jove, I have it! Miss Smer- 
don knows where she is. Hugh must write to her. I’ll 
take odds he never thought of that. He would have 
said so if he had,” and here Tom puffed viciously at his 

232 


IN FULL CRY. 


233 


cigar as he reflected that he could hardly well write to 
that young lady himself. “ There’s a bit of a coolness, 
I fancy,” he muttered, “between us, and I’d best keep 
out of reach of her sarcastic tongue for the present.” 
And having, as he thought, satisfactorily solved his rid- 
dle, Tom dropped the butt of his cigar into the ash- 
tray, and proceeded to go for a good stretch before 
dinner. 

When he and Hugh met at that meal the latter was 
much struck by his companion’s suggestion. Stupid of 
him not to think of it before ; he would write that very 
night, so that his letter might go the first thing in the 
morning. Then, considerably to Tom’s relief, he began 
to talk of other things, though even these he discussed 
with a mind evidently preoccupied, and in answer to 
his old chum’s questioning admittted that he’d decided 
nothing as yet about the future — whether to stay in the 
Guards, or exchange, or what. 

Hugh’s letter was duly written and a reply was anx- 
iously expected. Miss Smerdon’s answer was what Mr. 
vSwiveller was accustomed to designate a “ staggerer. ” 
Very formally, coldly, and politely, Frances in a few 
lines informed Captain Fleming that she had no knowl- 
edge of Miss Lynden’s present address. 

“That’s all nonsense!” said Hugh angrily, as he 
handed the letter to Byng. “Of course she knows 
where Nell is. She’s got this idiotic Manchester story 
into her stupid head — ” 

“ Hullo ! come, I say, young man, you must really 
moderate your language a little.” 

For a few seconds Hugh looked keenly into his com- 
panion’s face, and then smiled as he remarked, “Well, 
people are very irritating, you know. At all events, 


234 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


you’ll admit there’s no information to be gathered from 
that source.” 

“More to be done, perhaps, by a personal interview, ” 
suggested Tom savagely. 

“May be,” said Hugh, speaking quietly and softly. 

“ Suppose you were to undertake it. ” 

“Out of the question,” said Tom hastily. “If you 
don’t see your way there’s nothing more to be done there. 
Miss Smerdon and I are on very distant terms. ” 

Further discussion led to no fresh suggestion. Tom 
stood steadfastly by his old axiom that Miss Lynden 
couldn’t be lost, that the finding her whereabouts was . 
only a question of time — probably of a few days — but he 
did agree with Hugh that the Manchester story was 
most likely the cause of her withholding her address, 
and that to put things right between them it was im- 
perative that Hugh should see her. How that was to 
be brought about, though, neither of them could say. 

In the course of the day, however, Tom was seized 
with another inspiration. Turning the whole thing 
over in his mind, it suddenly flashed across him that on 
the day Hugh was taken prisoner there was a private 
soldier named Phybbs who declared he owed his life to 
Hugh, and this soldier was a brother of Miss Lynden ’s 
maid. He remembered quite well having some talk 
with the man, and telling him to write his account or 
the eighth of September home to his sister. 

“Now,” thought Tom, “that maid, no doubt, is with 
her mistress at present, and surely Private Phybbs would 
know where his sister is living. That’s it. Private 
Phybbs is the key to the whole mystery.” 

Tom was a man of decision. He rushed into the 
nearest office and telegraphed to the adjutant to know 


IN FULL CRY. 


235 


whether the regiment had sailed for Ireland, and whether 
Private Phybbs was still with it. In less than two hours 
a yellow envelope was brought to him at the Thermo- 
polium containing the following message, dated Ports- 
mouth : 

“ Still waiting for transport. Phybbs here.’’ 

Hastily throwing a few things into a portmanteau, 
Tom left a brief note for Fleming at the club, saying 
that he had been unexpectedly called out of town for a 
day or two, and by eight o’clock was steaming out of 
London on his way to the old seaport. 

But Hugh also had his inspiration. He came to the 
conclusion that he had not pushed his inquiries half far 
enough at Manchester, and what is more, that he had 
made them in the wrong directions. It was quite likely 
that some of the shop people with whom they dealt 
would be able to tell him something about the Lyndens, 
If his idea were correct about Nell, she would naturally 
not wish to see or hear from people of her own position. 
The old woman he had seen at the house was obviously 
only a caretaker. Indeed she said she knew nothing of 
the people who had lived there before. He would run 
down to Manchester again, and see if he could not dis- 
cover what he wanted. He could think of nothing else, 
and it was worth trying at all events. And so it came 
to pass that whilst Tom was speeding into Hampshire 
Hugh Fleming was being whirled into Lancashire, both 
men in pursuit of the same object. 

Hugh began his search in the most methodical way, 
and with the sternest resolve to keep a check upon his 
temper, which resolve, before the first day was over, 
was sorely taxed. The Lyndens had been gone some 
time and folks seemed to have forgotten them for the 


236 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


most part. What was remembered seemed somewhat 
to their disadvantage, for there seemed to be a hazy 
impression that they had gone away owing a lot of 
money. 

At last he found a respectable tradesman who remem- 
bered them quite well ; they dealt with him almost ever 
since they first came to live there. As for their owing 
a lot of money, he didn’t believe it; they had always 
paid him regularly enough. Pity Hugh hadn’t come a 
bit sooner ; there were servants in the house for months 
after the Lyndens left who could no doubt have told 
him what he wanted to know. The parlor maid married 
a policeman, he had heard, and that, he supposed, broke 
the thing up. What had become of the parlor maid, he 
couldn’t say. No, he didn’t know what her name was 
now. Miss Phybbs she had been when he knew her. 

Good gracious, what a fool he had been ! Of course ! 
the sister of that boy in his old company Ah ! he won- 
dered v/here that boy was now. The last time he had 
seen him was on the ground inside the Redan. He 
recollected rushing to the defence of Nell’s protegi. 

Well, it wasn’t much good; it wasn’t likely the boy 
came out of that business alive. Hugh certainly would 
write to the regiment and make inquiries, but there was 
little likelihood that Peter Phybbs was on its roll now. 

“Married to a policeman,” he reflected, as, having 
thanked his informant, he walked away. “ I dare say 
they could find out his name for me at their headquar- 
ters. There’s no need for telling them my reasons for 
inquiring. I certainly don’t want to invoke the aid of 
the police. The most respectable people would get in- 
dignant at finding the police laid on their track because 
they had forgotten to leave an address, No, I must 


IN FULL CRY. 


237 


confine my inquiries strictly as to the whereabouts of 
Miss Phybbs. ” 

On making his desire known at police headquarters, 
Hugh was at once asked to take a chair by the inspector 
on duty. 

We can tell you what you want, sir, I dare say, in a 
few minutes. Mary or Polly Phybbs, you say. A young 
woman living here, and married some time this spring. ” 
The officer turned to confer with one or two of his sub- 
ordinates, and then consulted sundry ledgers. 

‘‘Ah,’' he said, at last, “this would be it, no doubt. 
Richard Tarrant, married to Mary Phybbs, spinster, 
April 1856. Leave granted to act as caretaker at Den- 
ton Lodge, the residence of Dr. Lynden.” 

“ That’s it!” cried Hugh. “And now, where are the 
Tarrants living?” 

“ If they are not still at that address, I don’t know 
that we can help you. You see, Richard Tarrant has 
left us.” 

“ When and why?” asked Hugh laconically. 

“About a month ago. As for ‘why,’ unless you are 
finding him a situation it’s not worth while going into 
particulars.” 

“And you’ve no idea where he is at present? Is his 
wife with him?” 

“ I can tell you nothing more about him, sir, than I 
have done already. It is possible some of our people 
may know what’s become of him, but I rather doubt it. 
He was a bumptious, rather queer tempered man, and 
not popular in the force. However, if you’ll leave me 
your address, and I can learn anything, I will let you 
know.” 

Hugh thanked the inspector and took his leave. He 


238 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


lingered for two or three days at the Queen’s Hotel, in 
hopes of discovering the address of ]\Ir. and Mrs. Tar- 
rant, but, further than that Polly Phybbs had married 
Richard Tarrant, and spent her honeymoon in Dr. Lyn- 
den’s old house, he could learn nothing. He was by 
this time fairly convinced that the discovery of his lost 
love lay through Mrs. Tarrant, and clung to the idea 
with all the persistency of his disposition. Had he but 
sought her a month ago, he would have found her with- 
out trouble, no doubt. Tricked he had been in the 
Crimea, it was true, but he was fain to acknowledge to 
himself that had his senses not been lulled by Mademoi- 
selle Ivanhoff ’s fascinations he would have made much 
more stir in that matter of his release. Wearily he 
travelled back to town murmuring, after the manner of 
most of us when our sin has found us out, “ Too late ! 
too late!” We are never so clear-sighted as to our 
wrong-doing as when experiencing the unpleasant con- 
sequences that have come of it. 

Tom Byng, on the other hand, had returned to town 
triumphant. He had gone on board the convict hulk 
the next morning, found Private Peter Phybbs, and had 
what Tom deemed a fairly satisfactory interview with 
him. No, his sister was not with Miss Lynden. 
Whether his sister knew where Miss Lynden was he 
couldn’t say, but he thought it very likely she did. 
Since he had last heard from her she had got married ; 
married a policeman, and a cousin of theirs. He was 
afraid she hadn’t done a very good thing for herself, for 
it seemed her husband had left the police, and he thought 
things must be going a bit wrong with them. He never 
had thought much of that Dick Tarrant. When Byng 
asked him why he took such an unfavorable view of his 


IN FULL CRY. 


239 


sister’s prospects he admitted, with some hesitation, that 
she had written very gloomily to him a few days ago, 
and said that now Dick had left the police she didn’t 
know how they would get along ; that she hoped to see 
him soon, and in the mean time could he lend her some 
money. 

“That aint like Polly, sir. She’s a good girl, and 
a careful girl; but Dick, he’s just one of that loafing 
sort as’ll let a woman slave herself to death, and never 
do a hand’s breadth of work himself. I used to be al- 
ways at Polly about it. That Dick was always cadging 
for money out of her savings.” 

“ Well, I suppose you’ll go down to see your sister at 
once.” 

“ Yes, sir; I want a furlough as soon as ever I can get 
one ; but you know they say we belong to the Irish com- 
mand, and must get our furloughs from the general 
over there. We didn’t think that day in the Redan we’d 
be put in a convict hulk when we got home, did we, sir? 
Have you seen anything of Captain Fleming in London?” 

“Yes, Phybbs. I dined with him the night before 
last He’s very well.” 

“Ah, if it hadn’t been for him I shouldn’t be here 
now. Not that it’s much of a place to be in, ” continued 
Phybbs, throwing a most disparaging eye round the 
old hulk; “but it’s better to be here than nowhere, aint 
it, sir?” 

Phybbs’s theological ideas were somewhat primitive. 

“You’d do anything to help Captain Fleming, eh?” 
said Tom. 

“I’d do anything in the world for the captain” said 
Phybbs earnestly. “ I aint forgot that eighth of Sep- 
tember — not likely I ever will.” 


240 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ Then give me your sister’s address. Captain Flem- 
ing wants to see her on a matter of great importance.” 

“I’ll run down and get the letter this moment, and 
if it’s anything Polly can do, sir. I’m sure she will.” 

Having carefully noted down the desired address, Tom 
bade his brethren in arms good-by, and the afternoon 
saw him once more on his way to London. On arrival 
at the Thermopolium he learnt that Captain Fleming 
was not in town, and that the note he had left for him 
with the hall porter had never been delivered. 

Byng had thrown himself into the search for Nellie 
Lynden enthusiastically. He had intended to hand Mrs. 
Tarrant’s address over to Hugh, and so started him off 
at once to Manchester. Now Tom growled: 

“ Here’s the provoking young beggar not to be found. ” 

He quickly settled in his own mind that if he did not 
come across Hugh that evening he would go down to 
Manchester himself on the morrow. It would save time, 
he thought, and enable Hugh to seek an interview di- 
rect with Miss Lynden — always supposing that Mrs. 
Tarrant was in possession of her address. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


BAFFLED. 

In a decent lodging in one of the poorer suburbs of 
Manchester, Polly Tarrant sat at the open window busily 
engaged in sewing. Already she recognized that the 
labor necessary for their support would fall mainly upon 
herself. Dick was by no means estimated by his su- 
periors at the value he placed upon himself. Laxity of 
duty upon his part brought upon him rebuke, which 
petulant reply to those administering the “ wigging’' did 
not tend to soften. Continual carelessness on petty 
points of discipline brought still sharper reprimand. 
Mr. Tarrant was by no means of the sweetest of 
tempers, and thought fit to indulge in recrimination. 
Had he bowed meekly to reproof, he might have 
weathered the storm, but defiance to those in command 
admits of no toleration amongst disciplined bodies ; and 
so, as the inspector politely put it. Police Constable 
Tarrant “left.” He might have added, not altogether 
at his own request. 

Not only did Dick by this forfeit the very substantial 
wages he was receiving in the force, but that Utopian 
dream of his — of living rent free, as a caretaker of empty 
houses — also fell to the ground. As a policeman his 
position was a voucher for his integrity, but now he was 
neither of them, nor recommended by them. His ca- 
pacity for regular work was of the frailest, and Polly 
1 6 241 


242 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


soon discovered with some dismay that what her hus- 
band picked up by odd jobs he for the most part ex- 
pended on his personal pleasures, whilst for the keeping 
up of their home she must fain rely upon the proceeds 
of her needle. She shut her eyes close to the bitter bad 
bargain she had made, as such women often do. If he 
was short in his temper at times, well, poor fellow, he 
had a good deal to worry him; he couldn’t help it. 
There were those inspectors, they nagged at him until 
he could bear it no longer, and he was obliged to leave 
the police. Work was hard to come by, and, of course, 
a clever man like Dick worried at not being able to do 
more to keep up his home. She stitched harder and 
harder, would not see the imperfections of this false idol 
that she had set up, and made the most of two somewhat 
negative virtues. He did not get drunk, and he did 
not ill-use her. So Polly toiled on and strove hard to 
hope for a better times. 

It was a warm summer day, and the cottage door stood 
open. Polly, as before said, was sitting at the window, 
so engrossed in her sewing that she took no heed of a 
light footstep that crossed her threshold. The door of 
her room was ajar; it was pushed gently open; but it 
was not till a dark shadow fell across her work that 
Polly lifted her head, and became cognizant of a visitor. 
For an instant she sat spellbound, looking at the dark- 
robed figure before her, and then springing to her feet, 
exclaimed : 

“Oh! Miss Nellie, dear Miss Nellie! how glad I am 
to see you!” 

“ I’ve been looking for you two or three days,” replied 
Miss Lynden, bravely. “ And if it hadn’t been for cook 
I would have been puzzled to find you. Our old grocer 


BAFFLED. 


243 


told me where she was in service, and she told me you 
were married, and where you were living.” 

“ Yes, miss,” said Polly, and Dick and me stayed on 
in the old house as long as they’d let us. But the land- 
lord said we must go at the end of the half-year, and 
that he would pdt in a caretaker of his own. Is the 
doctor quite well, miss?” continued Polly, with some 
slight hesitation, and a quick, nervous glance at Miss 
Lynden’s black dress. 

“ My father is no more,” replied the girl, and her lips 
slightly trembled. It is that — principally — that has 
brought me to Manchester. Till the lawyer here who 
had charge of his affairs has wound them up, I do not 
know what I have to live on; but I’m told it will not 
be very much. Are you well and happy?” And Miss 
Lynden’s quick eye already detected that wealth was at 
all events no ingredient to such happiness as there 
might be. 

“Yes, thank you, miss,” said Polly, somewhat hur- 
riedly. “ I brought away what letters there were for 
you when we left Denton Lodge. I didn’t like to leave 
them with the old lady who succeeded us, and I didn’t 
know where to forward them.” 

“ Quite right ; though it is not likely there are any of 
importance.” 

“None of importance, miss!” exclaimed Polly, tri- 
umphantly. “Why, there’s three from the Crimea!” 
But to the girl’s astonishment her young mistress only 
replied, wearily : 

“ The Crimea is a thing of the past, like many a dream 
connected with it. However, get them all the same.” 

Polly’s domain consisted of but two rooms. That in 
which her visitor found her was a combination of kitchen 


244 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


and dining-room, and although it was summer there 
was a spark of fire burning in the grate wherewith to 
boil the kettle. Disappearing for a moment into the 
adjoining bedroom, Mrs. Tarrant speedily returned with 
the letters. There were two or three for the doctor and 
five for herself. The first she opened was from Frances 
Smerdon, imploring her to let her know where she was. 

A sweet, womanly letter, which, though touching on 
the close of the war and the prospect of seeing all their 
old friends home again, never alluded to her engage- 
ment. She pressed Nellie to come and pay her a good 
long visit at Twmbarlym, saying she quite yearned for .. 
a regular afternoon’s gossip with her ; but she never 
mentioned Hugh Fleming’s name, though she had never 
before omitted to inquire after him in her letters. “ Dear 
Frances!” muttered Miss Lynden; ‘‘she knows all, and 
let’s me see she does; but she has too much delicacy to 
allude to it.” 

The next letter she opened was that in which Byng 
had informed her that Hugh was alive, though wounded 
and a prisoner. She read it attentively. “Yes,” she 
murmured, bitterly, “ it was more manly not to speak 
till he was sure than to go away with a lie upon his lips 
and, after racking a woman’s heart-strings for a whole 
year, do his best to break it. Here are two of his let- 
ters, written by his lady-love’s side. I wonder whether 
he gave them to her to read before posting them to the 
poor fool at home who believed in him?” 

The third letter Nellie opened was from Mrs. Mon- 
tague. A commonplace epistle of vulgar condolence, 
expressing her opinion that Captain Fleming had be- 
haved shamefully, that no man alive was worth break- 
ing one’s heart about, that a captain in the army was 


BAFFLED. 


245 


no such great catch, and that she had never been able 
to make out that Captain Fleming had any expecta- 
tions. Up to the reading of this precious note Nell 
Lynden’s face had been sad and sorrowful, mingled with 
a slightly contemptuous expression — a feeling provoked 
by the thought that she should ever have allowed a man 
to win her love who was so utterly unworthy of it. But 
Mrs. Montague's commiseration was a very different 
thing. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed. Inso- 
lent!” she exclaimed, as she rose from her seat and 
walked rapidly to the fire-place. The idea of a woman 
like that presuming to pity me. I knew it, I was sure 
of it — all the people I knew here are laughing at me ! 
It is always the case when a girl is as shamefully treated 
as I have been. They pardon the offender, and laugh 
at his victim. Ah! Hugh,” she continued, as her voice 
softened, ‘‘ it was but a sorry jest to make a fool of a girl 
who knew no more of the world than I did. You might 
have had some little mercy. God help me ; lover and 
father both gone!” and at the thought she could not 
repress a sob. “ Tears, you fool !” she continued, what 
have you to do with tears from henceforth? It is time 
this farce was finished,” and as she spoke she tossed the 
whole packet of letters, including the two from Hugh, 
unopened, into the Are. 

Polly Tarrant listened with open eyes to her young 
mistress’s rhapsody, but when she saw these two letters 
cast unopened into the flames she was literally petrified 
with amazement. She knew the handwriting of the let- 
ters only too well. Last year, if there was a probability 
of anything arriving addressed in that handwriting Miss 
Lynden had often forestalled Polly in answering the 
postman’s knock. She had seen such letters eagerly 


246 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


clutched, she had seen them read and re-read, and now, 
as Polly expressed it, she’s a- treating them like trade 
circulars!” 

‘‘Polly!” said Miss Lynden, turning almost fiercely 
round upon her, and speaking in low, hurried tones, 
“ I dare say you’ve heard me laughed at. I dare say 
you’ve heard all sorts of horrid things about me and my 
poor father — ” 

“Indeed, miss,” interposed Polly, “I haven’t heard 
a word against you, except from the landlorc^ who was 
always growling at the poor doctor about that half-year’s 
rent.” 

“ Don’t interrupt me, ” continued Miss Lynden. “ I’m 
going to write you down my lawyer’s address. You 
must go up to the old house every now and then, and 
any letters that may come for me or my poor father you 
will take to the lawyer. And through him you can write 
to me occasionally ; but remember that you are to deny 
all knowledge of me to every one. Let no one know of 
any way in which a letter can reach me. For months 
and years,” and she glanced at her dress, “this will be 
my excuse for close retirement. I want to forget. I 
have so much to forget. Never speak to me of the 
Crimea again. Let that terrible year be as if it had 
never been. Let no one know that you have seen me. 
And now I must say good-by. You promise faithfully 
to do all I have asked?” and Polly, who was genuinely 
attached to her young mistress and was by this time dis- 
solved in tears, willingly faltered forth the required 
pledge. 

“Once more, good-by,” said Miss Lynden. “I had 
no chance of giving you a wedding-present before, so 
you must take this and buy yourself something now 


BAFFLED* 


247 


and as she spoke Miss Lynden slipped a banknote into 
Polly’s hand, pressed it, and was gone. 

Polly sat down and enjoyed the luxury of a good cry 
with her cup of tea. I have feminine authority for be- 
lieving there is much enjoyment in a “good howl.” 
What she was crying about Polly was not very sure, but 
I have a suspicion that a clear reason is by no means 
necessary for the thorough enjoyment of a good cry. Her 
old master was dead, and her young mistress was in 
trouble, and it was very kind of Miss Nellie to give her 
five pounds as a wedding present; and then Polly’s 
thoughts wandered off as to what she should do with it. 
She did not consult her husband on this point, having al- 
ready learnt that the knowledge of any such windfall 
was best kept to herself. She did not know quite what 
had happened, but one thing was clear. Miss Nellie 
never wished to hear of the Crimea or of Captain Flem- 
ing again. She wondered what had gone wrong be- 
tween them, but of one thing she was resolved, and 
that was to adhere firmly to the promise she had 
given. 

Only two days had elapsed. Polly, as usual, was sit- 
ting in the window, once more immersed in her sew- 
ing, when the sharp crunch of a man’s boot on the gravel 
caused her to raise her head. Another moment and an 
impatient tap on the door betokened another visitor. 
She immediately found herself face-to-face with Major 
Byng. She recognized him at once, and knew what 
errand he had come upon. It was all very well for 
Miss Nellie to have done with the Crimea, but the 
Crimea hadn’t done with Miss Nellie, thought Phybbs. 
She curtseyed, put forward a chair, and asked Byng to 
sit down. 


248 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Well, Mrs. Tarrant, how are yon?” said Tom. ‘‘ You 
recognize me, of course.” 

“Oh, yes, Major Byng, and I’m very glad to see you 
back safe again, after all you have gone through.” 

“Thank you; yes, we had some roughish times out 
there. But you’ve got married since I last saw you. I 
congratulate you, and as an old friend you must accept 
a gift from me upon the occasion,” and Tom attempted 
to force a liberal douceur into her palm, but Polly hastily 
stepped back a pace or two, and putting her hands behind 
her said : 

“ I thank you very much, sir, but I cannot take your 
money.” 

“ Why should you refuse a wedding present from me?” 
asked Tom, in no little astonishment. 

“ No matter, sir — I have my reasons — thank you very 
kindly all the same.” 

“ Of course, you must do as you like; but it’s rather a 
slight upon an old friend,” said Tom, smiling, “more 
especially one who has come all the way from London 
to see you.” 

“Oh, no, you’ve not, sir,” said Mrs. Tarrant, looking 
decidedly obstinate, and as Tom said afterwards, “ most 
confoundedly knowing to boot.” 

“There you’re wrong, for I have come from London 
to see you. I have come to ask you a question. ” 

Mrs. Tarrant made no attempt to help him out, but 
waited quite demurely till it pleased him to speak. 

“ I want to know where Miss Lynden is at present.” 

“I don’t know, sir,” replied Polly somewhat equivo- 
cally. 

“ But you know her address?” said Tom sharply. 

“ I don’t admit I do, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.” 


BAFFLED. 


249 


“She knows it perfectly,” thought Tom to him- 
self. 

“ When did you see her last?” he inquired, with what 
he deemed much forensic ability. But the result rather 
startled him, for Mrs. Tarrant suddenly drew herself up 
defiantly, and replied : 

“ Look here. Major Byng, Fm not in the witness-box, 
and 1 haven't married a police constable without having 
learnt that what I say may be used against me. Where 
is Miss Lynden now? I don’t know. What’s her ad- 
dress? I don’t know. When did I see her last? I don’t 
know. But I have every reason to believe,” concluded 
Polly, with indignant partisanship, “ that she desires to 
have seen the last of you, and all of you. And maybe it 
would have been better if she had never seen the first of 
you, either.” 

And now Tom committed a fatal error. Mrs. Tarrant 
had gradually lashed herself into a very pretty fit of vir- 
tuous indignation, and in a vain endeavor to calm the 
storm he prefaced his next speech with, “ My good 
woman.” This was pouring oil upon the fire. There 
was never an angry woman yet that this epithet did not 
goad to madness. It is galling, when you have given 
a loose rein to all the devil in your nature, to find it ig- 
nored and be blandly addressed as “good.” Mrs. Tar- 
rant was no exception to the rule, and indulged in a 
most uncomplimentary diatribe against the army, gen- 
erally expressed her opinion that it was a great pity 
that those who went to the Crimea hadn’t stayed there, 
and that they ought to be ashamed to show themselves 
in Manchester, they ought. Still amidst all this flow of 
language, Polly gave no clue to the cause of it, and 
Byng, at last convinced that there was no information 


250 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


to be obtained from her, was only too glad to fly from 
the storm he had raised. 

“Well,” he thought as he tramped back, “this is a 
devil of a sell. There is no doubt she knows where 
Miss Lynden is, and what her address is, but she’s de- 
termined not to give it. I thought I was going to carry 
back a bit of good news to Hugh. I wonder whether 
I bungled the business — whether offering her money at 
starting put her hump up? Thought I did it diplomat- 
ically, too. However, when a woman wont, she wont, 
and there’s an end of it! and if ever a woman said 
‘ shant tell, ’ and meant it, it’s Polly Tarrant. By Jove ! ” 
he continued, taking out his watch, “ I’m too late to go 
back to town to-night. Luckily I’ve got a portmanteau 
at the station. I’ll send for it and get a bed and dinner 
at the Queen’s.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE AMBASSADOR. 

Almost the first man that Byng encountered in the 
hall of the Queen’s Hotel was Hugh Fleming, and hav- 
ing given the necessary directions about his portman- 
teau, he at once bore him off to the smoking-room, to 
hear the account of his doings and disasters since they 
last met. 

‘‘It’s something, you know,” said Tom, as he came 
to the end of his narration, “ to have got this far We’ve 
found Polly Phybbs that was, and I’ve ascertained that 
she knows all about it. Now the thing is to make her 
speak. She wont for me, that’s quite clear. Miss 
Lynden’s dead full against you, and you’ve no chance 
of making it up with her unless you meet her face to 
face. Mrs. Tarrant takes her late mistress’s part, and is 
an out-and-out partisan, and no mistake. I don’t know 
what chance you have, but you’ll have to try. I don’t 
see anything else for it.” 

“ I must do my best,” said Hugh. “ I knew her a bit 
better than you did, and of course she knew Nellie and 
I were engaged. It’s quite possible she was indignant 
with you because she thought I ought to have been 
there in your stead. Heaven knows I should have * 
been if I could have found her. I’ve been vainly try- 
ing to for the last three days. ” So it was finally settled 

251 


252 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


between them that Hugh should try what he could do 
with the implacable Mrs. Tarrant. 

Though that lady gave a little start of surprise when 
Fleming presented himself the next afternoon, there was 
defiance in every fold of her dress, contemptuous ob- 
stinacy in every line of her countenance. Neither 
money nor argument should wring Miss Nellie’s secrets 
out of her, and if they insisted in ‘w^orriting’ her in her 
own house, well, they should have a bit of her mind, that 
was all. If Miss Nellie was above telling Captain Flem- 
ing what she thought of him, she wasn’t. She frigidly 
acknowledged Hugh’s greeting, and placed a chair for 
him, but it required no penetration to see that though 
at present on the defensive, she w^as prepared to assume 
the aggressive on slight provocation. Hugh wasted but 
short time on preliminaries and came to the point at 
once. Would she give him Miss Lynden’s address? He 
did not question whether she knew it ; would she give 
it him? And Mrs. Tarrant’s reply was, “Not if she 
knew it,” in every sense of the phrase. In vain did 
Hugh attempt to cross-question her. She would admit 
nothing, and gave palpable signs of becoming peppery 
under the operation. Quickly retrieving his false step, 
Hugh urged that he was engaged, as she knew, to Miss 
Lynden; that he had just returned from the Crimea, 
hoping to marry her, and that he could hear nothing of 
her; that she was withholding her address from him 
under a most erroneous impression ; that there had been 
an infamous lie circulated about him in Manchester; 
that this lie had probably reached Miss Lynden’s ears; 
that it had already occasioned him infinite unhappiness ; 
that he had, at all events, a right to demand an inter- 
view, if it was only to justify himself in her eyes — rather 


THE AMBASSADOR, 


253 


high a tone this to take under the circumstances — that 
he asked would she give him Miss Lynden’s address? 

No, she would not; but though Polly was still inflexi- 
ble in her refusal, she had softened very much in her 
manner. Hugh pleaded well, and Mrs. Tarrant was 
not insensible altogether to the titillation of acting as 
proxy for her mistress in a good, strong love scene. She 
could not help thinking that if she had been Miss Nel- 
lie she would have at all events heard what Captain 
Fleming had got to say for himself. Whatever Miss 
Nellie thought he had done, it seemed they had been 
telling lies of him. But no, she had promised her young- 
mistress, and she would be true to her word. Hugh 
at last saw that it was useless. He was conscious- he 
had progressed* rapidly in Mrs. Tarrant’s good graces, 
but he saw that she was quite inflexible in her deter- 
mination to tell him nothing whatever about Miss 
Lynden. 

‘‘Good-by, Mrs. Tarrant,” he said at last, “you’ve 
no doubt good reasons for refusing to give me her ad- 
dress ; but you are wrong, and before long Miss Lynden 
herself will tell you so.” 

As he uttered the above words a man’s head was sud- 
denly thrust in at the open window, a head which Hugh 
at once guessed belonged to Mr. Tarrant. 

“ I heard you’d a visitor,” said Dick, “ as I came up 
the path, so I just looked in to see who it was. All 
right sir. I’m coming in,” and as he spoke Mr. Tarrant 
withdrew his head, and in another minute entered his 
own abode, and looked inquiringly at the intruder. 

“ This is Captain Fleming, Dick,” said his wife. But 
this apparently conveyed nothing to Mr. Tarrant’s 
mind. 


254 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ He came to inquire after — ” and here Polly hesitated 
a little, “ after Dr. Lynden.” 

“ So I heard,” replied Mr. Tarrant with the same stu- 
pid stare of amazement on his face. Suddenly a light 
seemed to break in upon him. ‘‘Beg pardon, sir,” he 
exclaimed, “ but you’re the young gent who used to come 
sweethearting after Miss Lynden. Captain Fleming, 
of course. I’d forgot, Polly. Bad business, sir. Ah, 
that doctor was no better than he should be.” 

“Dick,” flashed out his wife indignantly, “how can 
you say such things? It’s downright wicked to say such 
things of a man’s that dead.” 

“Dead!” ejaculatea Hugh. “Dead! are you sure, 
Mrs. Tarrant? How did you hear it?” 

Polly felt as if she could have bitten her tongue out 
for the way it had betrayed her. For a moment she 
hesitated, and then said, somewhat confusedly : 

“ I forget now. I read it in the papers, I think. ” 

“ Why, you never told me a word about it,” said Dick. 

“ If you saw it in the papers, it would say where he 
died,” continued Mr. Tarrant with a cunning look, “ and 
I think this gentleman said something about behaving 
liberal td any one who could give him Miss Lynden ’s 
address.” 

“I’ve told Captain Fleming I don’t know it, ’’returned 
Polly, glancing uneasily at Hugh. 

“If what you tell me is true,” said Fleming, “I am 
more sorry than ever that you don’t know it. Some of 
Miss Lynden ’s friends ought to be with her in her afflic- 
tion. If by chance you should hear of it in the course 
of the next two or three days, perhaps you will send it 
me at the Queen’s Hotel. Good morning,” and with 
that Hugh, more thoroughly convinced than ever of 


THE AMBASSADOR. 


255 


Polly’s knowledge on the point, left the house. He 
had not got clear of the tiny garden before he heard a 
footstep behind him. 

“ Look here,” said Mr. Tarrant, I aint been an in- 
telligent officer in the police force without having 
learnt a thing or two. Don’t you believe her, sir. I 
don’t know what her little game is, but she knows all 
about those Lyndens, and where the young lady is. You 
want her address. Leave that to me. Captain Flem- 
ing. Information’s worth paying for. I’ll leave that 
to you, sir. Queen’s Hotel. All right, sir ; good morn- 
ing and Dick turned back into his cottage, determined 
that Polly should tell him all she knew at once. But in 
this Mr. Tarrant was destined to meet with disappoint- 
ment. Polly had hitherto yielded implicitly to him, 
but for once she was adamant. Let him bully or 
wheedle as he might, and Mr. Tarrant tried both, she 
still persisted in her negation, and Mr. Tarrant waxed 
exceeding irritable at the idea of his wife’s trumpery 
scruples and the thought of Captain Fleming’s purse 
strings. 

Rather a gloomy conference was held by the two 
friends when Hugh returned from his bootless visit. It 
was of no use to ha-O-e ascertained that Mrs. Tarrant pos- 
sessed the knowledge they wanted if they could not make 
her speak. They came to the conclusion that unless 
her husband’s influence prevailed there was nothing to 
be got out of Polly As Byng remarked, He was of no 
further use there,” and so it was settled that he should 
return to London, while Hugh should still remain at 
the Queen’s on the chance of hearing from Mr. Tarrant. 

Tom, indeed, was anxious to get back to town to 
fearry out a new idea that he had got into his head. His 


256 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


ideas had so far proved disappointing, and so he be- 
came impressed with the advisability of keeping this last 
to himself. He bethought him of another power where- 
with to overthrow Mrs. Tarrant’s obstinacy. He deter- 
mined to send for Private Phybbs, and insist on his 
requiring this service of his sister on behalf of the man 
who had saved his life. It would probably have made 
no difference, but he cursed his stupidity for not having 
played this card during his interview with Polly. He 
had guessed that Hugh had probably made the same 
omission from motives of pride. Indefatigable in his 
friend’s service, Tom ascertained by telegraph that the 
transport was in, but the — th had not yet sailed. He 
rushed down to Portsmouth by the first train the next 
morning, and upon giving the colonel a rough state- 
ment of the case, obtained a furlough for Private 
Phybbs, whom he bore triumphantly to town in the 
afternoon, telegraphing to Hugh to hold on at Man- 
chester. He explained to Private Phybbs what was 
required of him — that if he considered Captain Flem- 
ing stood by him on that eighth of September, it was 
his bounden duty to stand by the captain now he was 
in trouble. If he owed his life to the captain, this was 
his time to show himself sensible of*the service. Hav- 
ing thus primed him, Tom dispatched Phybbs to Man- 
chester by the earliest train he could find, and then, 
like any other great strategist, sat down to await the 
results. 

Polly was honestly delighted to see her brother. His 
last letter had given her no expectation of his obtaining 
a furlough for at least another month. She was very 
fond of Peter, and had made a great pet of him as a 
boy, and she had cried very bitterly when she first 


THE AMBASSADOR. 


257 


heard that he had taken the shilling, and was bound for 
the wars. It was with a slight feeling of relief she 
learned that he was in the same regiment with Mr. 
Fleming, who, she vaguely thought, might befriend 
the boy. She was quite as conscious of their great 
obligation to the. captain as her brother was himself. 
If not from his own lips, she had it under his own hand, 
that if Peter was alive now it was thanks to Hugh, and 
it had tried her sorely to refuse Fleming the informa- 
tion for which he had pleaded so earnestly and well. 
But Miss Lynden’s injunctions had been most positive. 

“Now, Polly, I’ve a great favor to ask you,” said 
Peter, after the first tumultuous, hugging and kissing 
had been got over. 

“ What’s that?” 

“Why, it’s about Captain Fleming, you know.” 

“Not that, not that,” said Polly, hurriedly. “He 
hasn’t sent you here to ask me that. He knows I can’t 
tell you. He knows the secret isn’t mine, or I would 
tell him at once.” 

“ But look here, Polly, you know the captain stood by 
me once.” 

Polly nodded assent. 

“Well, I swore to myself that night that if ever I got 
the chance to do anything for him, I’d do the best I could 
for the man who saved my life in the bloodiest day I 
v/as ever in. Well, Polly, I aint had much experience 
in sweethearting, you see. Since I ’listed my time has 
been spent in the Crimea, and on board a convict hulk, 
where there wasn’t much opportunity. But I’ve heard 
that men take the loss of a sweetheart terrible hard. 
Now I’m told the captain is in a fair way of losing his, 
and all because he can’t see the young lady. Major 

17 


258 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


Byng tells me you can manage it for him if you choose, 
and I shall call it real mean of you if you don’t. You 
know what he wants you to do; now why don’t you 
say you’ll do it?” 

“I can’t. I can’t indeed. I tell you, I promised 
not !” 

‘^What’s that got to do with it?” replied Peter an- 
grily. ‘‘Promise indeed! I’d break any amount of 
promises if the captain told me to. Promise ! Why, 
I’d break all the Ten Commandments if the captain 
wanted it. Besides, Miss Lynden herself will thank 
you for breaking that promise.” 

“ How do you know?” said Polly. 

“ Major Byng told me so.” 

“ And how does he know, I wonder?” 

“Well, I’m sure! Wouldn’t a major in the British 
Army know better than the likes of us about that or 
anything else?” 

“ Don’t tell me,” rejoined Polly, with a contemptuous 
toss of her head ; “ a woman knows more about that sort 
of thing than any ten men that ever stepped.” 

“ But I tell you,” persisted Peter, “ that it’s all a mis- 
take; Miss Lynden’s mistaken.” 

“What about?” said Polly curtly. 

“ How should I know? Major Byng says she is, and 
that the mistake would be put right in five minutes if 
Captain Fleming could only see her.” 

“ But Miss Lynden doesn’t want to see him.” 

“ How provoking you are, Polly! Don’t I tell you 
it’s all a mistake, and how can you tell Miss Lynden 
don’t want to see Captain Fleming until you let her 
know he is here? ” 

At last Polly was staggered. There might be some- 


THE AMBASSADOR. 


259 


thing- in this. She would be true to her promise, but 
she did not think there could be any harm in letting 
Nellie know that Captain Fleming was at Manchester 
seeking her. This much she told her brother she was 
prepared to do. But the ambassador had been too well 
coached in his duties by Byng to be satisfied with such 
a poor concession as that. He had, moreover, conceived 
a strong personal attachment to Hugh, independent of 
the feeling that he was indebted to him for his life. He 
was very resolute to help the captain to the very best of 
his power, and still urged his point with the utmost ob- 
stinacy. But Polly was staunch to her promise, and 
would not give up the coveted address. A compromise 
was, however, at last effected between them, and Mrs. 
Tarrant consented to forward a letter from the captain 
which would be placed in her hands. 

With that assurance Peter returned to his principal, 
and judging by the time that Hugh took over that com- 
position it was perhaps as well that no stipulation had 
been made as regarded its length. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


‘‘what shall I DO?’’ 

Philosophers tell tis that selfishness is at the bottom 
of all our actions. Even those few good deeds upon 
which we look back with pleasurable pride and satis- 
faction have been prompted, we are reminded, chiefly 
by the desire of gratifying our vanity or dazzling our 
neighbors. I am no upholder of this cynical creed, 
though nobody can deny that the sin of ostentatious 
benevolence is rife in the land. I am sadly afraid, for 
instance, that Tom Byng’s efforts on behalf of his 
friend were not altogether disinterested. He might be 
unconscious of the fact, but lurking somewhere in the 
recesses of his mind must have been the thought that if 
his most intimate friend should marry the most inti- 
mate friend of Miss Smerdon, he and Frances would 
come together pretty well as surely as two and two 
make four. He certainly had worked hard to bring 
that marriage about, and he awaited news from Man- 
chester with considerable and natural impatience. He 
knew that Hugh’s letter had been forwarded; yet the 
days slipped by without his getting a line in reply. 

But if Byng was anxious as to what Miss Lynden’s 
reply might be, his was nothing to the impatience 
which possessed Hugh. Not a day passed without his 
visiting the Tarrants’ cottage, only to receive a nega^ 
tive shake of the head from Polly in reply to the inquiry 

260 


“ WHAT SHALL I DO ? ” 


261 


if there was ‘‘anything for him.” He had bestowed 
largesse on Dick with so liberal a hand that that worthy 
pronounced him “quite the gentleman.” He would 
have rewarded Polly in similar fashion, but she obsti- 
nately refused to touch his money, saying that whether 
she had acted rightly or wrongly it should never be said 
that she had “ done it for money.” Hugh tormented 
her a good deal as to whether she was sure there had 
been no mistake about the address, and to quiet him 
Polly was forced to explain that though she knew an 
address through which a letter would eventually reach 
Miss Lynden, she could not tell its destination, and for 
all she knew it might have to go abroad. Hugh was 
also very anxious to learn some particulars of Dr. Lyn- 
den’s death, but about that Polly could tell him nothing. 
She had Miss Lynden’s word for it that he was dead; 
that was all she knew. 

A week elapsed, and still Polly only shook her head. 
What to do or what to think Hugh did not know. He 
did not care to leave Manchester until he received some 
reply. Miss Lynden’s address, it was quite evident, 
remained a secret, and Mrs. Tarrant could not have be- 
trayed her late mistress if she would. 

He walked up as usual one morning, and noticed 
carelessly that the window, contrary to custom, was 
closed. The door opened before he could knock, and 
Polly, arrayed in her bonnet and shawl, stepped eagerly 
into the passage. 

“ Go in, ” she whispered, “ I shant be back for an hour, 
at least. Good luck to you, sir!” and with these mys- 
terious words Mrs. Tarrant vanished. Hugh paused for 
a moment. His chance had come at last. He was there 
to plead his cause — and to win it, he earnestly hoped ; 


262 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


but he was conscious that he was going- into court 
with hands not quite clean. He pushed open the door, 
and Nellie Lynden, in sombre drapery, stood before 
him. 

Hugh,’’ she said, in tones that she vainly endeavored 
to render steady, “ I have come to hear from your own 
lips the truth ! I have travelled from France to hear 
your denial of the story I have heard about you with 
your own mouth. ' You could not stoop to lie to a woman 
still standing in the shadow of her father’s grave.” 

My dearest Nellie!” he cried, advancing as if to em- 
brace her. 

“ Stop! Hugh,” she said, sadly. “ I must have a full 
explanation from you before I decide whether we meet 
now for the last time or not. Three times have I 
thought that I should never see you more, and the last 
time was immeasurably the most painful of the three. 
I had wept for you and mourned for you as dead when 
the terrible news came home that you were missing after 
the 8th of September — that no tidings could be gained 
of you, but — stop, don’t interrupt me,” she exclaimed, 
as Hugh once more attempted to take her hand — ‘‘ the 
saddest parting of all was the last, when I was told you 
were false to every vow that you had made, and that 
the man for whom I had prayed for the last year, 
and who had cost me so many tears, had forgotten 
me and was on his way home wedded to another 
woman !” 

It was all false — false as can be,” cried Hugh, con- 
science-stricken at the torture to which he had subjected 
his betrothed. “ Who put this abominable rumor about 
I don’t know, but if ever I do, and it is a man, he will 
render strict account to me for the lie he has uttered. 


^^WHAT SHALL I DO?” 263 

How it reached your ears I don’t know, but the first I 
heard of the calumny was from Mrs. Montague.” 

A slight smile passed over Miss Lynden’s face at the 
recollection of that lady’s epistle. 

My father’s information about things in the Crimea 
was both extraordinary and accurate. Was there not a 
Mademoiselle Ivanhoff?” 

‘‘Yes,” returned Hugh, “and that is the lady with 
whom my name has been so falsely coupled. But I am 
neither married to her nor have I ever been engaged to 
her. I was and am pledged to you, Nellie, and anxious 
as ever to claim my bride as soon”— and he paused, 
glancing at her dress — “as I can obtain leave to.” 

“ And you are sure that you have no feeling for Mad« 
emoiselle Ivanhoff? She nursed you through your long 
illness, did she not?” and as she put the question Miss 
Lynden watched her lover’s face keenly. 

“ Yes, Sister Marie’s nursing no doubt had a good deal 
to say with pulling me through. The doctors all said 
I owed as much to her care as I did to their treatment.” 

It is possible that Miss Lynden had her misgivings 
as to how far feelings of gratitude had carried Hugh 
with his nurse; but, after all the rumors she had heard, 
it was a triumph to find her peccant lover still at her 
feet. She knew that patients occasionally conceive a 
tendresse for their nurses, and in her delight at finding 
he was still her ver}^ own Hugh she was disposed to 
ignore his frailties in his days of convalescence. But 
she would hardly have been a woman if she had omitted 
to ask the one question : 

“ Is Mademoiselle Ivanhoff pretty?” 

And Hugh would have been the veriest fool if he had 
replied otherwise than : 


264 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ No, I don’t think so; but I have heard men call her 
good-looking.” 

Ah! Madame Vashta, if you could only have heard 
that one little speech, how delighted you would have 
been with the results of your handiwork. 

By this time Hugh had not only obtained possession 
of her hand but might be said to have taken possession 
of Miss Lynden generally, for she was clasped in his 
arms, and he was pressing passionate kisses on her un- 
resisting lips. 

“Do be quiet, Hugh,’" she said, at length releasing 
herself from his embrace. “ Sit down, do, and tell me 
all that has happened to you since you were taken 
prisoner.” 

“ My darling, I haven’t seen you for so long, and I 
feared I had lost you. ” 

“ Now, do be rational. I am sure if all the other 
young men that have been to the Crimea are making up 
for lost time as quickly as you, their sweethearts have 
nothing to complain of. Now tell me exactly what 
happened to you after you were struck down in that 
dreadful Redan.” 

“ I have not much recollection of the first part of it,” 
replied Hugh. “ I have an idea of feeling very ill, and 
wishing people would let me alone. But when I first 
came fairly to my senses I was with half-a-dozen others 
in one of the country carts, suffering great pain and 
tortured with the most horrible thirst. I fancy I was 
off my head a good deal after that, for my memory 
seems chaos from then until I found myself in bed in 
the hospital at Batch! Serai, awfully weak and feeling 
nothing but a languid curiosity as to where I was and 
how I had got there. From that there is nothing much 


‘‘ WHAT SHALL I DO ? ” 


265 


to tell. I slowly came round, as men do after a long 
illness, and when I was really about again, found my- 
self a prisoner in the capital of the old Tartar Khans. 
The Russians were all very kind to me, but life there 
was pretty much what it is in all country towns — dull 
and monotonous.” 

“And this Mademoiselle Ivanhoff nursed you?” 

“ Yes, and a very devoted nurse she was to me and to 
many others, ” replied Hugh judgmatically. “ We parted, 
I am sorry to say, on very indifferent terms, and it is 
not likely I shall ever see her again. But now, Nellie, 
it is time you told me something of your proceedings. 
Your father’s death, for instance — how did that happen? 
Was he ill long?” 

“ It was horrible !” said the girl, with a shudder. “ It 
was at Boulogne, only a few weeks ago. There was 
nothing the matter with him. He went out to smoke 
a cigar on the pier, as he had done two or three times 
before. I went to bed, and when I awoke next morning 
I was told he had been found in the harbor quite dead. 
The whole case was at once taken possession of by the 
police, and there was a rigid inquiry as to how he got 
into the water. But nothing ever came of it. There 
was a heavy bruise on his temple, most likely caused by 
his striking against one of the piles. It was a darkish 
night, and my belief is that he accidentally walked over 
the side of the pier, was stunned by the blow he received 
when falling, and so was drowned almost without a 
struggle. There were vessels lying close by, and sailors 
and others were about all night, but no one heard his 
cry for help. I only know poor papa perished without 
a hand being stretched out to save him!” And tears 
trickled down Miss Lynden’s cheeks for one who, though 


266 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


not a sympathetic, had always been an indulgent, father 
to her. 

“I am very sorry for the poor doctor,” said Hugh. 
“ It must have been dreadfully sad for you, Nell.” 

“Yes,” replied the girl softly, “for I thought I was 
left all alone in the world.” 

“Ah, but you know now that it is not so,” rejoined 
Hugh, gently pressing her hand. “You were mistaken 
about that. But what made you leave Manchester so 
abruptly, without telling any one where you were going?” 

“ I don’t know. Our life has been a puzzle to me 
from that time to my father’s death. We left, as you 
would say, without beat of drum, remained a day or two 
in London, and then crossed at once to the Continent, 
where we wandered up and down with no apparent 
motive. Papa briefly explained he had business here 
and business there, but what his business was he never 
confided to me. Our wanderings seemed to be perfectly 
aimless, and after the fall of Sebastopol papa seemed to 
be more restless than ever. As I have already told you, 
his information about things in the Crimea was won- 
derful, and I did think,” she added, smiling fondly on her 
lover, “ marvellously accurate. It was he who told me 
you were engaged to be married to Mademoiselle Ivan- 
hoff. Perhaps the wish was father to the thought, for 
he never liked the idea of my marrying you. I don’t 
know why.” 

“Ah! you see, Nell, my people didn’t receive the 
news of my engagement to you with much cordiality. I 
dare say the doctor thought that my father might have 
written to him more effusively on the subject. Bless 
him, he didn’t know how nice that dear old gentleman 
can be when things are not going to his liking!” 


“what shall I DO?” 267 

‘‘ Oh, but, Hugh, what does he — what do all your peo- 
ple think of our engagement now?” 

“So far,” rejoined Fleming, “they haven’t had any 
occasion to think about it. As I didn’t get killed, and 
contrived to be mentioned in despatches, they were bound 
to kill the fatted calf for me during my brief visit, and 
as I had completely lost you, there was nothing to be 
said about you.” 

“ But what will they think of it now, Hugh?” 

“Well, the governor wont like it; but then as he 
wouldn’t like my marrying anybody unless she had un- 
limited shekels, that’s not worth considering. If she 
had only heaps of money, I might marry a Hottentot 
for him. But then, you see, I’ve got to live with her, 
not him.” 

“ But, Hugh, what shall I do? I have no one to ad- 
vise me.” 

“ Do, darling, marry me quite quietly in two or three 
months, and then, you see, you will always have some 
one to advise you,” a bit of special pleading which 
brought a smile to Miss Lynden’s lips. “ Now that’s 
settled,” continued Hugh. “How is Miss Smerdon? 
What makes her so huffy? There’s no pleasing her. 
We’ve done our best to blazon the colors, and paid pretty 
dearly for the right of carrying Sebastopol on them.” 

“ I don’t understand you. Why, where did you meet 
her?” 

“ I haven’t met her,” rejoined Hugh, “ but I wrote to 
her to know where I could find you.” 

“ She couldn’t tell you, because she didn’t know.” 

“ No, but she needn’t have answered me as if I was 
almost a stranger, considering the terms we were on be- 
fore I left England.” 


268 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


‘‘I think I can explain all that,” said Miss Lynden, 
laughing. “ Frances is a very warm friend. I had a 
most affectionate letter from her the other day, in which 
she said she was not going to encourage young men in 
marrying Russian countesses.” 

You haven’t seen her, I suppose, since you left Man- 
chester?” 

‘‘ No, nor heard from her until the other day. But 
why do you ask?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hugh carelessly. “We 
used to think you knew there was something between 
her and Tom Byng.” 

“Yes; but I’m not clear that anything will come of it 
now. She wrote to him when we all thought he was so 
badly wounded, you know, and though I never saw his 
reply I know very well what it must have been. She 
railed at herself that she should be so immodest as to 
write to one she knew would flout her.” 

“Yes. Tom has kept a very still tongue on that sub- 
ject ever since that letter. But, Nell, he has stood by 
me in my search for 3.^ou like a brick. He has taken no 
end of trouble, and it was he, you know, who really 
found out your address after all.” 

“ He has always been a stanch friend to you,” replied 
Miss Lynden, “ from the day that I first set eyes upon 
you when he was coaching you in y{)ur match.” 

“ Dear old Tom ; I should never have won it but for 
him. If we find they are still in earnest we must man- 
age to put things straight between them.” Here a dis- 
creet rattling of the latch warned them of the return of 
Mrs. Tarrant. 

“You said you wouldn’t be back for an hour,” said 
Fleming, reproachfully, as Polly entered the room. 


‘‘what shall I DO?” 


269 


Mrs. Tarrant threw a look of the liveliest satisfaction 
at the lovers, and replied smilingly, as Hugh rose to go : 

“ Indeed, captain, I have been away much nearer two 
hours than one.” 

Hugh murmured mendaciously something about the 
difference of clocks, affecting to consult his watch, and 
then prepared to escort Nellie to her lodgings. As he 
bid Mrs. Tarrant good day, she said in a low voice : 

‘‘You’ve offered me a present. Captain Fleming. 
You shall give me a new bonnet to wear at the wedding. ” 

“ That I will,” replied Hugh, “ the very smartest you 
can find in Manchester.” And as the pair walked away 
together Polly felt that Major Byng did know something 
about these things after all. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


‘‘love must be requited.*’ 

Sergeant Evans, when he had once convinced him- 
self that Dr. Lynden was not engaged in the manufacture 
of base money, looked upon the doctor’s avocations as 
no longer any business of his. He had little doubt what 
the doctor was, but granted he was a Russian spy, still 
the sergeant did not see exactly how he was to interfere 
in the case. Criminals of all classes he had tracked and 
hunted down — there was no offence against the law of 
which he was not thoroughly cognizant — but he did not 
see under what head the doctor’s offence could be classi- 
fied. It was a crime not mentioned in the statute book, 
and therefore the sergeant finally concluded it was no 
affair of his, and that, especially as the culprit had fled, 
he would trouble himself no more about it. Still, to an 
enthusiast like the sergeant, the thing had a great fas- 
cination. He positively revelled in the unravelling of 
elaborate webs woven by the felonious classes, and al- 
though he could not exactly make up his mind that the 
doctor belonged to these, and though professionally it 
would be waste of time to further investigate the mat- 
ter, still he was curious about the doctor’s former life and 
antecedents. He read the account of his death in the 
paper. It had attracted some little attention, for though 

270 


‘‘love must be requited.” 271 

eventually determined to be accidental, there had been 
a suspicion of foul play in the first instance, and this 
recalled the affair once more to his recollection. 

It so happened that duty connected with the appre- 
hension of a gang of swindlers who had been engaged 
in what is technically known as the long firm busi- 
ness,” carried him over to Paris. On his way back he 
resolved to have a palaver with his brethren of the 
French police at Boulogne with regard to Dr. Lynden’s 
death. 

Ah, it was a strange affair that,” said one of their 
number. We could make nothing of it. I don’t be- 
lieve it was an accident, any more than I do that he 
threw himself into the water. There was no more un- 
likely man to do that than the doctor. Besides, he 
had no apparent reason for doing anything of the 
kind.” 

‘‘You knew him then?” said Sergeant Evans. 

“Ah, no, not personally,” rejoined the Frenchman, 
“ but we knew a good deal more about him this side the 
water than you did. You would find his dossier in the 
Rue Jerusalem. He was an adventurer, and a very sly 
old fox, quite of la premier force. His colleagues have 
occasionally been laid by the heels, but he never was. 
Why he left his own country we never knew ; but he has 
been dabbling in financial and political schemes on the 
Continent all his life.” 

“Was he ever in the employment of the Russian 
government?” asked Evans. 

“ I can’t say. Likely as not. They pay their agents 
well, that government, and are clever at choosing 
them. ” 


2J2 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


“ You think he was murdered?” said the sergeant. 

“ Who can say?” rejoined the Frenchman. ‘‘ I can 
fancy there were some who desired his death. He knew 
too much. ” 

No further light was ever thrown upon the doctor’s 
fate or career. With regard to the latter, it was perhaps 
as well that it should remain shrouded in obscurity. As 
regards the former, the Frenchman’s remark was per- 
haps as appropriate an epitaph as any. He knew too 
much. 

Great was the exultation of Tom Byng when he tore 
open a telegram from Hugh which contained these 
words: “Victory all along the line. Despatches by 
post. You most honorably mentioned.” And when 
Hugh appeared personally, a day or two later, Tom 
voted it as an occasion of high festival, and was speedily 
lost in anxious consultation with the cook and butler. 
High and late was the revel that night, but ere it fin- 
ished Tom was solemnly pledged to act as best man — 
or, as he more practically put it, he had promised to 
see his chum through. He learned next morning that 
Miss Lynden had gone to stay at Twmbarlym until her 
marriage, and that Hugh intended to follow her there 
very shortly, having received already most cordial con- 
gratulations as well as an invitation from Mrs. Smerdon. 
“And a very different note,” he added^ “to the last from 
Miss Smerdon. Somebody, it seems, had told her that 
confounded story about the Russian countess.” 

Hugh Fleming and his fiafic^e had had more than one 
talk over this Beatrice and Benedick- of the Crimean 
war. They both agreed that the less they interfered 
the better. As Hugh said, “ If they don’t get thrown 


‘‘love must be requited.” 


273 


together enough over our wedding to settle their own 
affairs, it must be through sheer perversity.” 

“ She will rather die than give any sign of affection,” 
laughed Nellie, in reply, to which Hugh had re- 
joined: 

“ Then it will be forme to drum into Tom’s head that 
‘Love must be requited. ’ ” 

Numberless were the discussions that took place be- 
tween the two friends about Hugh’s future. Where the 
marriage was to take place was also a topic of consider- 
able debate. The Smerdons, who insisted on standing 
in the light of parents to Nellie on this occasion, were 
anxious that it should take place from Twmbarlym, 
while Frances, as soon as she had definitely ascertained 
that Major Byng was to act as Hugh’s backer at the 
ceremony, obstinately declined to open her Jjps upon 
the subject. Hugh, on the contrary, rather inclined to 
the wedding taking place in town. He was anxious that 
some of his brother officers and other of his old military 
friends, who were now on leave, should be present. 
Though Twmbarlym was a good house, the putting up 
of ten or a dozen young men would test its resources to 
the uttermost. Then, again, both Peter and Polly Tar- 
rant would feel hurt if they were not present at the 
marriage. It was a point difficult to decide. Although 
quite aware that it was inimical to his own interests, 
Tom would not venture to express an opinion in favor 
of Twmbarlym. He knew — no one better — the ad- 
vantages of staying in a good country house under like 
circumstances. If a man couldn’t manage to unravel 
the tangled skein of his love under those conditions his 
case was indeed hopeless, and with a tinge of regret he 
18 


274 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


found this momentous question eventually settled in 
favor of St. George’s, Hanover Square. In reality, I 
fancy, whatever they might think, the decision by no 
means lay with either Hugh or Nellie. Milliners and 
dressmakers are paramount at such times, and issued a 
mandate that they must have the young lady in town. 
She must remain there ; if not they would not be answera- 
ble for her things ” — a stupendous threat that no woman 
would venture to stand out against. 

Hugh’s had been a queer fancy, and Nellie yielded to 
his wish that their wedding should take place on the 
anniversary of the fall of Sebastopol — the day that had 
so very nearly proved fatal to him — and on a bright Sep- 
tember morning a gay party trooped up the steps of the 
old church, so famous in past days for fashionable mar- 
riages. There was a gallant muster of Hugh’s com- 
rades and other friends, among others Jim Lockwood, 
who told Hugh that he looked upon this as a very re- 
markable solemnity, and he only hoped the groom had 
been perfectly candid with Mrs. Fleming that was to 
be, ‘‘Because,” said the hussar, “if you fellows marry 
again in the way you come to life again, it wont be 
long before she has to bring her action for bigamy. ” 
But for all this chaff, Mrs. Fleming numbers no hand- 
somer souvenir of her wedding-day than the bangle sent 
by the dragoon. 

Besides the group at the steps of the altar, there were 
a -few spectators scattered amongst the pews. Mrs. 
Tarrant was there, with her husband and brother, tak- 
ing, we may be sure, the greatest possible interest in the 
whole affair — so much so, indeed, that Polly’s eyes wan- 
dered in all directions. Nobody in the church was likely 


LOVE MUST BE REQUITED.’' 


275 


to escape her quick eyes. In her heart she thought the 
church by no means so crowded as it should be for a 
function of such importance. Suddenly she gave a 
slight start as she caught sight of two ladies in a promi- 
nent place, sitting to her right. Both were richly and 
fashionably dressed. The one was a dark-eyed, hand- 
some girl, whose face wore a look of contemptuous scorn 
as she gazed upon the two principals. Her companion 
was a woman approaching the autumn of life, but retain- 
ing sufficient of good looks to make one wish to have 
seen her in her meridian. Polly craned forward to get 
a good view of this pair, and for a minute or so even the 
scene before the altar ceased to rivet her attention. 

‘‘Dick,” she whispered, “there she is again, the lad]' 
with the roses! Don’t you remember the woman you 
saw coming out of Dr. Lynden’s door at Manchester?” 

“ No, is it? — are you sure?” 

“Quite certain, Dick.” 

“Well, it don’t matter much, anyway,” replied Mr. 
Tarrant. “ The^octor has gone, and whatever his little 
game was he can’t be run in for it now, that’s cer- 
tain.” 

“ Follow her as soon as she goes out. I want to know 
where she lives.” 

“What for?” 

“ Never mind. Do as I tell you. I want to know 
who she is,” and Mr. Tarrant, growling a responsive 
“All right,” Polly became absorbed in the marriage 
service. 

“Well, Marie,” said the elder lady, as the affair con- 
cluded, and friends crowded round the newly married 
pair with their congratulations, “ I really should like 


276 


BEATRICE AND BENEDICK. 


to know what your particular motive for coming here 
this morning was. Yes, I know you wished to see how 
these things were done in England, but it was something 
more than that.” 

‘‘ My dear aunt, ” replied Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, Cap- 
tain Fleming is an old friend of mine.” 

“ Nonsense, child. I don’t believe you ever saw 

Yes, now I look in your face, I think you have met be- 
fore. Where?” 

‘‘In the Crimea,” rejoined Mademoiselle Ivanhoff 
demurely. 

“ Impossible! I know he was there, and I know you 
were there. But meet?” 

“ Y es, my dear aunt, we took prisoners at times, you 
know — I took him.” 

“Marie, you’re incorrigible,” said the elder lady, as 
she broke into a peal of laughter. 

“ He escaped me,” said Mademoiselle Ivanhoff, “ and 
I was curious to see what sort of a woman had captured 
the renegade. Ah, I wonder who the next will be. He 
was rather nice, my Englishman.” 

Mr. Tarrant, in compliance with his wife’s desire, fol- 
lowed the ladies home to a house in Upper Brooke 
Street, and having ascertained the number, turned into 
the nearest bookseller’s and requested leave to look at a 
Blue Book. A reference to this told him that this was 
the residence of a Mr. Clifford, with which piece of in- 
formation he went back to his wife. The name told 
nothing to Polly, and she was none the wiser for having 
discovered the identity of the lady of the roses ; but hap- 
pening to come across Sergeant Evans some few months 
later in Manchester, she told him about it. He made 


^*LOVE MUST BE REQUITED.** 277 

no remark, but was probably the only man in England 
who saw the connection between Dr. Lynden’s flight 
and the abrupt dismissal of Mr. Clifford from a senior 
clerkship in the Foreign Office. 

We are not told that Benedick married Beatrice, but 
whilst the curtain is falling, as the Scotchman said, 
“ Things look varra suspeecious. ” 


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